Nature Studies
by A.A. Pessimal
Summary: The New Assassins' School teaches zoology and respect for the environment. No, it's not got all hippy and tree-huggy. It's not that sort of school and the Nature Trails devised by Miss Smith-Rhodes teach lessons. For the overconfident,Nature bites back.
1. Mailboxes going postal

_**The Urban Safari: big game hunting in Ankh-Morpork**_

_Prologue:- _(from _**Making Money, **_by Terry Pratchett, pp18-19)

"Look, I can explain" said Moist von Lipwig.

Lord Vetinari lifted an eyebrow…

"Pray do," he said, leaning back.

"We got a bit carried away" said Moist. "We were a bit too creative in our thinking. We encouraged mongooses to breed in the posting boxes to keep down the snakes…"

Lord Vetinari said nothing.

"Er… which, admittedly, we introduced into the posting boxes to reduce the number of toads…"

Lord Vetinari repeated himself.

"Er... which, it is true, staff put in the posting boxes to reduce the numbers of snails…

Lord Vetinari remained unvocal.

"Er…. These, I must in fairness point out, got into the boxes of their own accord, in order to eat the glue on the stamps." said Moist, aware that he was beginning to burble.

Well, at least you were saved the trouble of having to introduce them yourselves" said Lord Vetinari, cheerfully. **(1)**

"But as I recall, we've had this conversation before, Postmaster. The situation has escalated to the point where many postboxes in the city are now , ah, no-go areas for either Post Office staff or members of the public seeking to post a letter. What I propose is that the Post Office employs specialist professional help to reclaim its postboxes and make them fit for the purpose again. And I know the very people who can be approached to take on the task. Considering a postbox on Zephyr Street suffers from a serpent which was misidentified as a harmless Lancre Grass snake, but which grew up on a diet of toads into a particularly fine specimen of Howondalandian Spitting Mamba, one bite from which can kill a bull elephant, I consider we need a skilled herpetologist. And herpetology being only one among her other accomplishments, I think I know _exactly_ where to find her…"

___________________________________----

**The Assassins' Guild School, Filigree Street, Ankh-Morpork**

**Student Exercise Book**

_**Name**__: the Right Hon. Andreanna Petley_

_**Form: **__Two Raven_

_**Subject: **__Nature Studies_

_**Teacher:- **__Miss Smith-Rhodes_

My first impressions of my class and my teacher:-

Right at the start of term when we had our first Class, Miss Smith-Rhodes asked us what we thought Nature Studies was going to be about, and she chose Marianna Selachii to answer. And Marianna said, please miss, we did this in first school, where Miss Jones had some stick insects in a jar, and we came back from hols and there was only one left and it was _bigger _and _fatter_ than the rest, and we had this gerbil in a cage but it died, and we went out on Nature Trails walking in the park to pick up nuts and leaves and conkers and things to arrange prettily in the Nature Corner.

And Miss Smith-Rhodes nodded and said, yes, we _will_ be keeping animals , and we _will_ have our own Nature Corner, and we most certainly _will_ be going out on Nature Trails, but they will be ones of my own devising. And you will learn that Nature is a thing of eternal surprise and astonishment which requires you to have an appropriate degree of concentration and focus at all times.

And then she broke off because Brian Smegleigh-Prepousse was passing a note to his equally grotty friend James Diggleby on the back row, and she cracked her whip, the one she wears at her waist, really really fast, we hardly saw her hand move, and it pulled the note out of his fingers, and up to the front of the class. And she read it, and she tutted, and then she called Brian up to the front and made him read it out loud so we could all share the joke! . She said Morporkian isn't her first language and she's always keen to learn more, so could he explain what he meant by _Miss Smith-Rhodes is dead fit? _I _know_ I'm fit, she said, I cen can run fifteen miles under a desert sun with a full pack and weapons load. _**And**_ inhume somebody at the end. And I do not understand the meaning of this next phrase. Is it to do with woodwork?, she asked. Please explain, I'm not up to speed with this Morporkian idiom. And after she'd taken him to tiny little pieces, we knew we had a good teacher, and we were going to love Nature Studies!

_____________________--

**The Dark Council of the Assassins' Guild**

**Filigree Street**

**Ankh-Morpork**

_From the desk of the Guild Master_

_To:- Lord Vetinari, Lady de Meserole, Council Members_

_c/c all School Teachers_

_Senior Assassins_

Following consultations with the Patrician, the Guild has been convinced that there is some merit in the idea that outside professional business, we should seek to present a friendly image to the population at large and do what we can to be good and concerned citizens.

This is, after all, in keeping with the concept of _noblesse oblige_ by which we live our lives.

If anyone has any reasonable and valid suggestions as to how the Guild might usefully be seen to be, for instance, performing Good Works and acting as conspicuously good citizens in the community, do not hesitate to submit these for my consideration. After all, we are law-abiding members of the community at all times and it may be useful, from a public relations point of view, to be seen as such.

With thanks

Downey.

______________________________

**Student Exercise Book**

_**Name**__: the Right Hon. Andreanna Petley_

_**Form: **__Two Raven_

_**Subject: **__Nature Studies_

_**Teacher:- **__Miss Smith-Rhodes_

Voluntary class work, Saturday afternoon:-

We went out with all necessary tools and equipment to help the Post Office sort out a problem with its mailboxes. We were all looking forward to a practical exercise, and Miss Smith-Rhodes introduced us to Mr Wee Mad Arthur, who was going to assist, and told us we should be sure to do as he said, as he was very experienced in this sort of work. The school Matron, Miss Igorina, also attended, with a box of common and special antidotes, just in case. Although Brian Smegleigh-Prepousse was clumsy and stupid enough to get himself bitten and needed attention quickly, Miss Smith-Rhodes _absolutely _forbade Matron Igorina from cutting his arm off. He was the only casualty.

______________________________________

"Aye, weel, whit's the _pey,_ miss?"

Johanna Smith-Rhodes looked down at Wee Mad Arthur with distaste tinged with amusement.

"You cen submit an itemised invoice to the Post Office." she said. "They're peying the bill for this job. Discuss the metter with Mister Von Lipwig. If it helps, _I'm_ doing this _pro bono_, end my pupils heve ell given up a Seturdey efternoon to be here. You erre the only one expecting pey for this!"

"Ye dinnae haif have a funny accent, lassie!" Wee Mad Arthur observed.

"Well, I could sey the same ebout you!" she replied.

Miss Smith-Rhodes is Howondalandian. A _White_ Howondalandian. Although she has been living in Ankh-Morpork for nearly ten years now, time in which some of the _certainties_ of life at home, concerning humans of other races and sentient beings of other species, have crumbled somewhat. On a recent visit Home, for instance, her family picked her up for the way she treated the black servants: Johanna has learnt to say _please_ before an instruction, and _thank you_ afterwards, even to black-skinned people. It would never have occurred to her had she not been living in Ankh-Morpork. Apparently, treating them as if they were real people only spoils the blecks. Johanna disagreed: common courtesy, even to servants, gets better service. She even felt vaguely disgusted at her family's unthinking reflex racism, even though it was a racism she had been brought up into, and which she carried to the big city with her, and had had to painfully unlearn. Then she paused and realised: this is an Ankh-Morpork attitude. _I've been living here so long I'm going native_, she thought.

And here she was, on Zephyr Street, cheerfully negotiating with a gnome.

Pull back the camera a little, and regard Johanna Smith-Rhodes. She is a couple of months shy of twenty-nine years old, and has been teaching at the Assassin's School for nearly eight years. Prior to that, she had undergone a gruelling and intense training course to obtain full Assassin status, followed by a slightly more sedate Post-Graduate Certificate of Education to qualify her to teach. She is five feet six inches tall, and has a body which suitably experienced and motivated observers **(2) **have classed as "stunning" and "perfect".

Uniquely among Assassins' School teachers, she does not wear black. Her clothing is the standard Howondalandian bush uniform of khaki tunic, loose trousers, and brown knee-boots. She carries the wicked rhinoceros-hide _sjaembok_ whip at her right hip, a weapon in which she is expert. As her students know to their cost, it can pick an illicit note out of an errant student's fingers from twenty feet away, leaving nothing behind but a sting. A broad brown leather belt supports various sheathed knives as well as pouches and pockets, the content of which a wise person does not enquire about. A Sam Browne cross-belt carries further pouches, and a bush machete, rather than a sword, completes her set of personal weapons. The only concessions to Assassin chic are the purple teaching sash, and a broad black band on her khaki bush-hat, which conceals her mane of glorious red hair. Freckled and girlish, she looks apparently no older than many of her older pupils. But appearances deceive. **(3)**

Miss Smith-Rhodes clapped her hands.

"Let's get sterted! Mr Bates, you heve the keys?"

The elderly postman stepped reluctantly forward and knuckled his forehead. He had to be here: Deputy-Postmaster Groat had insisted. Only a Post Office employee could unlock the boxes and handle the mail. It was _Regulations_. He agreed: nobody should break the Regulations, for whatever reason, or where would we be? But given what was inside some of the boxes, he wished he was somewhere else.

"Right here, miss," he said.

"Good! You'll be eble to collect your mail and get it on your cart, when we're finished."

He nodded, gloomily, and produced a clipboard. He consulted it.

"Just mongooses in this one, ma'am. Possibly some living toads, though I doubt it."

Johanna nodded, and drew on a pair of very thick shoulder-length gauntlets. She flexed her fingers.

"Miss Petley. Miss Acle-Brandon. Stend by with cages, if you please." She nodded to Mr Bates.

"Now!" she said, and he inserted a key and unlocked the door, leaping sharply aside.

Johanna took a second to assess the situation as angry chittering noises flew up at her. Then she lunged in and grabbed.

"You take the ennimel with resolution and determination!" she shouted to the class, displaying a large adult mongoose that was determinedly trying to bite a hole in her right gauntlet.

"One hend underneath the body! One at the beck of the neck! Do NOT place yourself _enywherre_ near the teeth!"

She shook it to get it to dislodge its bite on her gauntlet, and dropped it into the cage Fiona Acle-Brandon was holding.

"Close and lock the door. Good. Now load it on the cert!"

Fiona ran to do as she was told, holding a wildly jumping cage in which an angry animal was butting and biting to break out.

"Now we see this is a nursing mother with cubs. I cen count seven. Who wishes to retrieve them?" Several girl pupils ran forward. Even though they were Assassin school pupils, they shared the universal twelve-year-old female love of baby animals.

"We must reunite these with their mother so she is happier." Johanna said. "Remember, wear the gauntlets. Even the bebbies cen bite! Hendle them with cere and caution. I'm gled we found them. They would heve run out of food in there and sterved. Beck at the Guild, we cen edd them to the menagerie, and you will see to it their needs are met."

Wee Mad Arthur looked on approvingly.

"Nice work, lassie! I ken ye have experience of this kind of thing?"

"Es a girl, I spent my summers at the T'set'se National Park learning all about handling enimels . The Rengers were very good teachers! End et home, we sometimes hed problems on the family ferm, with the usual sort of wild enimels."

"Ah. Ye mean meeces and rats and bunny rabbits?"

"The ones the lions and leopards and hyenas hed not eaten, yes. End elephants. End the bewilderbeeste!"

Wee Mad Arthur looked at her appraisingly.

"I bet the pest controllers in your country are rare heerrd men! Me, I just does rats and wasps and the like. So you sometimes got a plague of lions, lassie?"

"The older and sick ones, lions thet could not run down their usual prey, sometimes ceme to the townships and took a native. In those circumstances we _hed_ to kill. A meneater is bed news!"

She paused, aware the class were listening intently.

"End I will teach you ebout large cats in due course. But we _only_ kill enimels in extreme circumstences end with great reluctence. If lions or leopards strayed onto our fermlend or tried to stalk our ferm enimels, we elways sought to cepture them end release them in the wild, a long wey ewey. And I will show you elso how _this_ is done!"

"So nae trophy heids on the wall, then? The sort that look as if a gey big lion's eatin' its way intae the living room wall?"

Johanna smiled.

"_No, _Mr Arthur. We heve progressed in the lest couple of centuries! These days, Howondaland _conserves_ its wildlife!"

Mr Bates coughed. She remembered.

"You mey do your duty now, Mr Bates. But.. wear gloves. And perheps the Post Office should send a clean-up squad, to, er, _senitize_ the inside of the box?"

She left Bates industriously shovelling mail into a sack, including that which had recently been used as bedding by a family of mongeese.

"I'll leave it to Frank and Dave **(4)** to make sense of this lot!" he grumbled as he shovelled. Finally he was finished.

"Right, miss. According to the clipboard, the next ones are a bit trickier. Corner of Zephyr and Higg's Alley on the Upper Broadway side. Contains large poisonous snake, apparently."

Johanna nodded.

"Cless, I will deal with this one. You will observe. I require the following equipment from the cert…"

Johanna donned a full-face mask in black leather which left nominal eye-holes and breathing apertures. Over this, she wore a set of glass-lensed goggles, which she'd acquired from a witches' supply store. Apparently indispensable for broomstick pilots, she'd seen an alternative use for them.

Mr Bates, es you open the door, move VERY quickly ewey" she requested. "And I want NOBODY to stend in direct line with the open door! The creature in here is one I know from home. Its preferred method of defence is to spit venom et the eyes of anything thet threatens it. I will seek to cepture it in the noose. Mr Bradley, when I call for you to give me a venom jar, you will provide it swiftly and smartly into my hend. Miss Omnius, Miss Partington, Mr Smeghleigh, you will step forward and provide ective essistance when I call for it. Be edvised, this is a large and powerful enimel and will take more than one person to subdue it. Mr Pegley, Miss Oulton-Broad, you will stend by with the large herpetology tenk, and be prepared to close and seal it instantly the creature is inside! Miss Igorina, if enything goes wrong, you require entidote number five. Inject 100cc into the vein closest to the site of the bite, end then get me to the Lady Sybil. Thenk you."

For an elderly man, Bates could move very quickly. As the door swung open and he ducked aside, Johanna took in a huge uncoiling snake, banded in green and red. Its head reared up and she ducked, as the shot of venom flew over her shoulder to splatter harmlessly on the pavement. She heard frightened squeals from behind her and a cry of "_Crivvens!_"

She caught it just below the neck in her left hand, aiming its head away from her. Her right hand slipped the noose over its head, then slipped down onto the handle to draw it tight. She dragged it bodily out of the postbox, calling for her named students to grab and subdue the thrashing of its long muscled body. Finally, six students were holding the serpent more-or-less straight.

_Fourteen feet, _she thought_. What was it living on?_

"Venom jar, please. Thenk you."

She gripped the serpent behind its head and encouraged it to bite through the thin latex covering the glass jar. Venom squirted into the container, oily and greenish-yellow. She triggered the bite reflex again and again until she was sure its venom sacs were empty. This used up two jars, both of which she carefully sealed and labelled.

"Why em I doing this?" she asked the class.

"To get it to empty its venom out so it's reasonably harmless, miss?"

"Good enswer. Other reasons?"

As the class was stumped, she provided them.

"Mr Mericet esked me if I could provide some mamba venom for him. So one jar goes to his Poisons lab. A second jar goes to the Lady Sybil's tropical diseases unit, who will prepare more entidote from it. Now let's get this beauty into the tenk. One, two, three, CLOSE! Now SEAL!"

Mr Bates, gloved to the shoulder, gingerly cleared out another mailbox that was now open for normal business again. A small audience of interested Ankh-Morpork people had gathered to watch the show. Johanna went over to a local shopkeeper, pointed out the spilled poison that was burning a permanent mark into the paving slab, and suggested a bucket of water or two be used to flush it into the gutter. As nobody argues with an Assassin, least of all one who has just wrangled a fourteen-foot venomous serpent, the water appeared with great speed.

"As a cless essignment, you might went to design end build a hebitet for this snake. It must be escape-proof, it must simulate the creature's natural environment – if you are stuck, see me, I'm from the seme country – end it must ellow for feeding and watering and occasionally cleaning it out. We cen use the largest herpetology tenk in the Menegerie for this."

They moved onto their next assignment, trailed by an interested audience.

"Mr Bates?"

He read from the clipboard.

"No longer any toads or snails, ma'am, but apparently a King Cobra, female, nursing a clutch of eggs."

"The mongoose didn't get the snake?"

"No, ma'am. By all accounts it was young and overconfident. She killed and ate it."

"Did you hear that, cless? The mongoose is normally the essessin to the cobra. This one eccepted the contrect to inhume the cobra. But it was _overconfident._ Do you hear me?"

"Yes, miss!" the class chorused.

"Good. End now, considering the denger of _overconfidence_, we must plen our strategy. Mr Arthur, I may need you here. I em wondering if some of those eggs may not have _hetched_."

Wee Mad Arthur nodded. He asked how many eigs a cobra lays in the one go.

"Up to thirty" Johanna said. "So there could be _a lot_ of snakes in this box. I really do not went eny to escape!"

"Aye, weel" said wee Mad Arthur. "Provided I stay clear of the teeth, I'm alright, aye? And yon wee wurrrms is only three or four inches long? Bring 'em on, lassie!"

A strange light lit up in the gnome's eyes.

"Always something new tae learrrn when it comes to pest control, aye!"

"I'll deal with the mother" Johanna said. "Es before, class, I went people on stendby with herpetology tenks. Miss Igorina, the eppropriate entidote is Number Two. Fifty cc's in the vein nearest the bite, end then to the Lady Sybil."

"I'll have a thretcher ready" Igorina said. "And the two fathtetht runnerth in the clath to carry it".

Johanna tried to manoever an angled mirror on a stick in through the letter-slot to see what was in there. Something inside hissed and she glimpsed a large cowled serpent for a moment, before the pole was wrenched from her hand. She paused and reflected. She issued catching-nooses to several students, with instructions.

As before, she went in wearing the face-mask and flying goggles.

"Everybody ready? Do not forget. The young mey be new out of the egg, but they are venomous from birth. Do _not_ be over-confident because these ere newly-hetched!"

She took a deep breath.

Mr Bates! One, two, three, GO!"

As the door swung open, a frozen tableau, stilled in the unaccustomed light, met their eyes. There was a single adult cobra, rearing up and darting its head towards Johanna in a threatening mode. She wielded the noose expertly, catching it just below the cowl, lifting the four-foot creature up and out of the mailbox. But the twenty or thirty young ones posed more of a threat.

"Well, HELLO!" roared Wee Mad Arthur. "Come tae DADDY!"

With that war cry, the gnome was in there, darting around with unbelievable speed and agility, and as far as Johanna could tell, closing the mouths of the young cobras with the strength of his arms clamping their jaws closed, whilst head-butting them to render them docile.

"Take that, ye wee scunner of a worrrrm that y'are!"

She sighed and shook her head, instructing the students to lift the stunned cobras out of the box and drop them into a tank.

_And I hope he's only stunned them, _she thought. _I'd quite like a breeding population at the School. If only because older and set-in-their-ways senior Assassins are grumbling at the money invested in my animal handling facility, and they're loudly asking what benefit the Guild is going to get from becoming environmentally conscious. If I can supply Mericet and T'Malia with venom on demand, and have ample left over to sell to the wizards for their verdammte hexes, that answers the question and keeps my Department in a budget. And frees me up to teach as I see fit._

Remembering, she swiftly milked the mother cobra into another set of venom jars. She got Bradley to screw lids on and mark them up, then wrangled Mother into a tank.

A good teacher should give the impression they are watching their students at all times. This is usually managed by intelligent prediction of how a given student is likely to respond in any given situation. But it asks a lot, of even the best teacher, to manage this whilst simultaneously handling a lethally poisonous snake, which calls for concentration and focus.

Thus, she missed Brian Smegleigh-Prepousse losing his nerve when the stunned baby cobra he was handling awoke in his hand with a nasty headache and a desire to play catch-up. He should have been holding it behind the head, not halfway down the body, as he discovered to his cost. And he should have been wearing gloves.

Johanna and Igorina got to him together. His hand was already swelling up.

"Idiot boy!" she cursed, reaching for her waist-pouch for something with a razor edge. "Well, I'm efraid you'll be cerrying a scar for the rest of your life!"

As Johanna cut into the bite site and widened the wound to let the blood flow, wishing there were a non-black-ribboner vampire nearby **(5),** Igorina filled a syringe, then tried to raise a vein in his arm. She found it, inserted the needle, and injected.

"_Get thet snake!" _she shouted, noticing the cobra that had bitten the boy was loose.

Andreanna Petley caught it in a noose, and Johanna nodded approval at her technique. A city cab pulled up at the verge. It was an advantage of attracting an audience: something had gone wrong, and even in Ankh-Morpork, there were public-minded citizens who would offer to help.

"Get the young man to hospital, miss?"

Johanna passed over a couple of dollars, and Brian Smegleigh was loaded aboard, half-conscious, with Virginia Omnius offering to escort. Johanna thanked her: Miss Omnius was quiet and sensible and could be relied on.

"Tropical Diseases, et the Lady Sybil. Cobra bite. 50cc of entidote edministered. Hurry!" she shouted. The cab pulled off.

She took a deep breath and called the class together.

"Now see what heppens when you lose focus? When you fail to concentrate? Thet wes OVERCONFIDENCE! Do _**not**_ let thet happen to YOU!"

After that, the rest of the afternoon's run was anticlimactic: another seven mongeese, a couple of brace of harmless grass snakes, and, to Wee Mad Arthur's professional delight, a mailbox that had been colonised by rats. Johanna graciously let him pile his kills on the cart so he could trade them in at Gimlet's: it was on their way home, after all.

She exhaled, the day's excitement over, for now. They had to transfer their catches to pens, runs and tanks at the Animal Handling Unit, and she had her venom samples to drop off and then to check on that verdammte boy at the Lady Sybil; but it hadn't been a bad day. Not a bad day at all.

**Student Exercise Book**

_**Name**__: the Right Hon. Andreanna Petley_

_**Form: **__Two Raven_

_**Subject: **__Nature Studies_

_**Teacher:- **__Miss Smith-Rhodes_

Voluntary class work, Saturday afternoon:-

Nature trails with Miss Smith-Rhodes are really exciting, and there's a lot to do, and we collect some really interesting samples of Nature to bring back to the Animal Handling Unit (which some people nickname the Nature Corner, but they're idiots).

Brian Smegleigh-Prepousse should get better and keep the use of his arm and be back in class soon, worse luck, and Doctor Lawn said it was only quick action by Miss Smith-Rhodes and Igorina that saved him from worse. If a snake bit me, I'd feel better for knowing they're about!

Miss is talking about a summer school in Howondaland in the long hols and I really, really, want to go, please please please!

(At this point a note in red ink says "we will see, Andreanna. Thank you for the kind compliments, but they'll get you no extra marks! J S-R")

* * *

**(1) **The dialogue in** Making Money **is correct up till this point. But I've diverged from this point on…

**(2) **such as her room-mate during training, Alice Band, a woman uniquely qualified to make such a judgement.

**(3)** But if you've read my long story _**The Graduation Class**_ you'd know all this. Miss Smith-Rhodes is – just about – a canonical character in the Discworld. Terry invented her name and a few other details so she could be a teacher at the Assassins' Guild School. But in the canon she's just a name and a job description/location, and hasn't had even the smallest speaking part yet. I've fleshed her out a bit, loosely based on a lovely Afrikaaner girl I knew who was from out in the sticks in Natal/Zululand.

**(4) **Frank and Dave are the Dead Letter department at the Post Office and by default get all the difficult mail. A sackful soiled by mongeese should be easy for them… (see _**Making Money)**_

**(5) **Vampires were popular in Howondaland for their readiness to assist snake bite victims by sucking the blood out. This was held to be mutually beneficial by both parties, vampires being immune to the poison and considering it gave blood an interesting new taste. Indeed, this adds a whole new layer of meaning to the word "_snakebite_", as in "I'll have a pint of snakebite, please". **(6)**

**(6) **For non-British readers: in British pubs, a "snakebite" is a revolting-sounding cocktail of a half pint of cider and a half-pint of lager in the same pint glass. Some drinkers of a gothic persuasion might request a shot of blackcurrant cordial ("_snakebite and black_") which gives the resulting drink a queasily venuous-blood-like aspect.


	2. Animal Management the Assassin way

_**The Urban Safari – c2. Just another day in "Nature Corner"**_

Johanna Smith-Rhodes smiled, happily. She was in her environment, doing things she loved, and was totally at home.

The same could not be said for Emmanuelle-Marie Lapoignard les Deux-Épées, who was uncharacteristically ill at ease. Normally Emmanuelle moved through life with the grace of a cat and was at ease anywhere: today she felt like a cat in a training school for Lipwigzer attack dogs.

Monty raised a lazily inquisitive head and his long forked tongue flickered out to taste the presence of the second female human. Emmanuelle took a reflexive step back.

"Oh, _really_, Emmie. It's not thet bed!" Johanna said, with a little smile. "Enywey, I fed him yesterdey. He won't need enother mouse until tomorrow!"

Emmanuelle forced a weak little smile. She tried to ignore the fact that her colleague was wearing a six-foot python as if it were some sort of featherless boa. Then she remembered what the word _boa_ meant in Morporkian. It was not a happy association.

_I must not show fear in front of the pupils, _Emmanuelle reminded herself. _But name of a name, Johanna's pet shop!_

"People in some clubs would pay good money to watch things like that, _cherie_!" she said, seeking to make light of it.

"Really, Emmie! Do I _look_ like Miss Dixie vaBoom?" Johanna laughed.

"There is a certain resemblence about the snake, yes. Although Miss vaBoom generally wore fewer clothes!"

Johanna shrugged. Monty moved sinuously with her shoulders.

"Well, if working as an Essessin ever stopped peying me a wage, I might consider it. The femily beck Home would be shocked, though!"

The Animal Management Unit at the Assassins' Guild School was the size of a small warehouse. It represented a major investment for the Guild, but Johanna had argued for it, on the grounds that in the normal course of things, the current dedicated facilities at the old Guild School were too small and too outdated to sustain a breeding programme for those animal species the Guild normally cultivated for its own rather specialised purposes. A more holistic approach was needed, she had argued, which in the long run would save the Guild money, as well as providing an invaluable teaching and research facility.

Rather than breeding tree frogs twenty or thirty at a time, why not have a simulated natural habitat for them, which included ample supplies of their prey animals, so that at any one time the Guild could be sure of a couple of hundred to be culled and processed? This would be more economic, as well as providing the appropriate botany for classroom study without the time and expense of sending a field trip to Howondaland. Gathering them in would also provide a useful practical training exercise for students.

Similarly, amongst those useful animals the Guild had always bred, in a pretty much ad-hoc way, similar management programmes could be instituted for those species of scorpions, spiders, and tropical arachnids which had always been so useful and instructive for the Assassins' Guild. And a tropical habitat involved tropical plants. Given time, the Guild could have some of the finest species of poisonous flowers, carnivorous plants and lethal flora of any college in the temperate zone. This also meant income from selling surplus products, or selling and trading in rare plants. While botany was not Johanna's primary field of study, she was sure Mrs Bellamy, the botany mistress, would support her idea, and perhaps be so kind as to help fine-tune the details? And of course Mr Mericet, the Poisons master, would welcome an ample, practically guaranteed, flow of raw material for his classes, as well as a one-stop-shop for graduate Assassins needing to replenish their personal stocks with successful contract completions in mind. And those _really_ exotic ingredients occasionally required by Miss Sanderson-Reeves, the Domestic Science mistress, might _also_ be produced in house.

As a self-contained self-supporting unit, food animals for larger predatory species would also be bred here, and mice, toads and common frogs would also, of course, be in ready supply for dissection by biology students. This spared the Guild having to buy them in from outside.

Johanna, supported by Davinia Bellamy, and other staff members with an interest, had got her Department, and she now presided over an empire of animal cages, sealed natural habitats, classrooms, and laboratories on the AMU site.

Emmanuelle, while pleased her friend had found a niche in the teaching and research structure of the Guild, repressed another shudder.

"Emmie, he's just being friendly!" Johanna reassured her, as the python flowed in her direction. Then she spoke the words all non-pet-people _never_ want to hear.

"He's just a big softy, really!"

These are famous last words, spoken as a universal law just before the Rottweiler's low threatening growl becomes a muffled _crunch_, or the Siamese cat hisses and lashes out with a paw full of razor blades, or the Vampire Goldfish of BhangBhangDuc leaps from its bowl and goes unerringly for the jugular.

Seeing her friend's worried expression, Johanna took pity and returned Monty to his herpetology tank, where he obediently slithered off into the undergrowth, nodding at a terrified and transfixed mouse in a "_just wait till tomorrow, chum_" sort of way.

"So what did you want to see me about?" Emmanuelle inquired, regaining some of her composure.

"An idea Lord Downey hed when he visited. Let me show you."

She led the way down the rows of shelves, cages and animal habitats, pointing out little curiosities on the way. Emmanuelle jumped as a huge serpent rose up from its coils and bumped threateningly on the reinforced glass of its tank. It was twice her size and was menacingly banded in red and green. It followed both women as they passed and bared its fangs to them by way of greeting.

"Howondalandian Spitting Mamba," Johanna said, casually. "The one we rescued from a Post Office mailbox lest week. Ebsolutely _lethal,_ Emmie. A meximum security enimel."

"So I perceive" Emmanuelle said, weakly. "And the student who was bitten?"

"Is recovering et the Lady Sybil, end reflecting on his overconfidence. Which is no bed thing. When he recovers, I'll heve him feed the snake a few rats, so he cen get his nerve beck. Or I might find him a mate."

Emmanuelle raised an eyebrow.

"The snake, thet is, not the student. Think of it, Emmie! If I cen get a female Spitting Mamba, I cen stert a controlled breeding programme!"

"You are sure the one in the tank is male, _cherie_?"

"Of course it is, I took care to look! It would mellow him a little, to have eccess to a female. They ere not the Disc's best mothers, large snakes. She will ley her eggs, bury them end cover them with earth and rotting vegetetion, then forget about them. I cen recover the eggs and ertificially incubate two or three, then raise them in a secure hebitet. The other eggs cen go to a cless for study and dissection"

Emmanuelle was starting to suspect there was something slightly _warped _about her friend's passion for dangerous animals. _She will go to the opposite end of a snake from where the fangs and the poisons are, just to look under its tail to see if it is a boy or a girl serpent. But then, look at the nature of the School where we both teach. Perhaps I too am warped in a useful Assassin way. _

"We heve to milk the snakes for poison from time to time. Shell I show you?"

Emmanuelle shuddered. Her teaching speciality was swords, daggers and bladed weapons. In her opinion, poisons were for other people. In every respect.

"No, thank you."

They stopped at a group of students who were feeding habitats full of juvenile cobras, miniature versions of the adult.

Johanna paused and spoke to them about how and why baby cobras should be fed, and reminded them that it would soon be time to split up the colony again, as cobras are territorial animals and need space to themselves as they grow. Satisfied, she let them get on with it. The two teachers walked on.

"Here we are at the eviary." Johanna said, indicating the huge wire-mesh and frame structure that soared right up into the roof space. Birds could be seen flying in the eaves. "Generelly speaking, there are no poisonous or venomous birds, elthough the Vindictive Cheffinch of the Genuan Delta lays eggs whose shells are virulently poisonous to predators breaking them open to get at the contents. We hev a breeding colony in Cage Twenty-Seven, for the eggshells.

"Here we hev the Bald Eagle of the Howondalandian Central Plain, elthough it is a more specialised sort of vulture. It is en _impetient_ bird, which doesn't see why it hes to wait for something to die first. Note the cruel hooked beak and the long rending talons.

"End here we hev our raven colony. Now this is one of the things I wented you to see. Lord Downey's idea wes thet those Houses named efter enimels should edopt their House enimel end look after it. Lady T'Malia hes Scorpion House. Her pupils hev edopted a scorpion tank, and pey for its upkeep. Did I tell you we hev secured the contrect to breed scorpions for the Petricien's scorpion pits at the Palace, by the wey? Mr Mericet hes Cobra House, which is self-explenetory. Mr Nivor has Viper house. His pupils hev a tenk of spitting edders. Bill Bradlifudd has Tree Frog House. My own students are Raven House. You'll see this cage hes the House crest, to show Raven House pupils hev a special interest here."

Emmanuelle went pale, seeing the hideous implication.

"Mais…un moment!" In times of stress, she reverted to Qurmian. "Les… _araignées? La veuve noire?"_

"Lord Downey _insists_." Johanna said, masking a smile. "He noticed Bleck Widow House isn't yet represented, end esked me to telk to you. Come back this wey…"

Johanna led her friend by the hand down a different aisle. "_Lepidoptera_, the study of insects. But pessing on. Here we hev _Erechnida_, the spiders, our finest collection!" she proclaimed. "This is the _Heptothermidae,_ which is harmless to humans. In the next tenk, the _Lycosa raptoria, _whose fengs bring creeping ulceration and necrosis. End here we ere, Emmie, the Bleck Widow! Her kiss is fifteen times more toxic then thet of the rettlesnake end is highly neurotoxic, which is to say it ects directly on the central nervous system…"

"Johanna, I've got the point! _Bienvenue a mon cauchemar_…"**(1)**

Johanna relented. Privately, a little part of her was grinning broadly at seeing the suave and sophisticated Emmanuelle, a born city girl, placed in extreme discomfort for once: it squared her personal account for all the little put-downs and jokes she'd received as a student, a shy and reserved country girl sharing living space with an impossibly glamorous, superior, and beautiful _femme d'affaires. _They were friends, they'd been through intense Assassin training together **(2)** and could be nothing else, but every so often it was good to see the boot on the other foot. Johanna had only ever managed revenge once before, and that had been during Wilderness Survival lessons, where she had excelled and Emmanuelle, away from the city, had lagged, needing generous support from the colonial country bumpkin who had been born to it since day one.

"You don't need to supervise _personelly_." she reassured Emmanuelle. "Just put the word out for volunteers from Bleck Widow House, end I'll show them whet needs to be done. Lord Downey thought a little prize might be in order to the House thet best looks after its totem enimel?"

They moved on from the spiders, Emmanuelle shaky, Johanna stowing away the knowledge of her friend's apparent arachnophobia for future reference. _Most ironic, for the housemistress of Black Widow. Especially since Emmanuelle shares character traits with the spider – she too devours her mate after sex, metaphorically speaking…_

"They were thinking of re-naming Tump House as Mantis House." Emmanuelle said, changing the subject. "Fitting, as the praying mantis eats her male after they have had congress. But poor Alice, she ends up with the stick insects! How boring for her!"

Both women laughed.

They walked on, past the mongoose enclosure, and past a stack of very large empty cages.

"Have you ordered giraffes and elephants, cherie?" Emmanuelle inquired, nodding at them.

"I cen't justify very large animals as yet." Johanna sighed, regretfully. "The Guild's priorities are for enimels of a venomous or poisonous nature. Lions and tigers and lerger enimels hev no venom or poison end so, no direct interest to the Guild. I do hev a brace of duck-billed platypi on the way from Fourecks, though. They hev poison glands. Although I am near to persuading the Council thet owning a bleck penther might be of interest and hev teaching relevence. The silent, deadly, essessin of the jungle, you see."

Ennanuelle nodded, hoping that such animals would be placed in _really secure_ natural habitats.

"Those cages, I think they mey be needed in the future. The Petricien said to me that the city's hippopotami, the ones kept by the College of Heralds, are old, end he wents an insurance policy egainst them dying. So he may entrust me with raising a pair of celves to replace Roderick end Keith for ceremonial duties. The Council will no doubt edvence funding to build a lerge emphibious hebitet for them."

"That makes sense. You cannot have a city without its city animals. That's bad luck." Emmanuelle agreed. They walked out into the light of day, Johanna regretful, Emmanuelle relieved.

"_Miss Smith-Rhodes?" _The man calling for her was in the standard Dark Clerk uniform of black suit and bowler hat. She turned to face him.

"Lord Vetinari sends his compliments and asks if you can attend on him at the Palace. He believes your skills are needed."

Johanna nodded.

"Off you go then, cherie! Better you than me!"

"I mey need you yet!"

* * *

1 **(1) **Alice Cooper fans out there must have got the references by now?

2 **(2) **See my story _**The Graduation Class **_for Emmanuelle and Johanna's early relationship as students.


	3. The Urban Safari

_**The Urban Safari c3**_

Lord Vetinari put down the copy of an intercepted diplomatic message that he had received. It was from the Union of Rimwards Howondaland's ambassador, and marked for the attention of the Foreign Affairs minister, BOSS, and the Staadtspresident. The cipher had been broken by Leonard of Quirm, and a suitably qualified Dark Clerk had translated it out of the _Vondalaands_ language.

_The City's iconic hippopotami are both elderly and in poor health. Roderick and Keith have represented Ankh-Morpork as its totemic animals for many years now, and no thought appears to have been given until now as to their eventual replacement. I consider this presents a unique opportunity to apply leverage on the Ankh-Morporkian administration. People are superstitious and irrational. It will be remembered that there is an old folk-myth that if the hippos die or leave, great calamity will befall the city and its people. It will certainly be remembered on the deaths of the animals. This has the potential to cause great civil unrest and will weaken Lord Vetinari's position as Patrician. We are currently raising procedural difficulties relating to export licences and availability of suitable animals to export to Ankh, and the ability of hippopotami to survive a long sea voyage is not known, so further delays may be caused if replacement animals were, most unfortunately, to die en route. I urge you to consider the possibilities this holds for negotiation with Ankh-Morpork, as Vetinari is surely not unaware of the danger this event will pose. What do we want from Ankh-Morpork and how can we get it on the most favourable terms? Then we can present ourselves in a good light as saviours of the city, with an unprecedented gesture of two hippopotamus calves – for free – as a goodwill present and a token of our friendship. This appears to me to be a small price to pay for the concessions we can receive. Please advise._

_Pieter van der Graaf, Ambassador._

Vetinari frowned. There was a knock on the door.

"Come!"

"Mr Dibbler and his escort to see you, sir. Also the Howondalandian ambassador." said Drumknott.

"Capital!" Vetinari said, putting away the intercepted diplomatic note. "Bring them in."

Claude Maximilian Overton Transpire Dibbler was a medium-to-small man, with a furtive ratlike demeanour and darting shifty eyes. He was brought into the Oval Office flanked by Captain Carrot and Sergeant Colon of the Watch.

Vetinari nodded.

"Please remain and brief me, Captain. Sergeant, I believe there is a civic disturbance in progress at Hide Park, and your talents may be better employed there?"

"Sir!" Colon said, saluting and about-turning with relief. He left the office.

The fourth person to have entered was a man in his late fifties, in the classic Howondalandian dress of khaki bush-suit and floppy-brimmed bush hat. He also wore an orange and white sash, denoting his ambassadorial status with his national colours. He removed his hat in deference and said

"You wished to see me, my Lord?" in a clipped and guttural Howondalandian accent.

"_Mijnheer_ van der Graaf. Please be seated!"

Vetinari let his attention fall on Dibbler, and said nothing. The silence ground on. A bead of sweat trickled down Dibbler's face.

"Look, m'Lord, it isn't my fault…"

Vetinari stared on.

"Do continue, Mr Dibbler. Of course, you realise I may not especially _like_ what you have to tell me".

"Well, m'lord. I negociated with my business associate in Rimwards Howondaland for the animals..."

"_Do_ go on."

"And he shipped them over to me, I hired a few lads who assured me they'd dealt with this sort of thing before and got them to set up cages and things...."

"And you thought you'd set up a... safari park. On currently vacant land outside the city where you have an option to develop. This is a new concept, mr Dibbler. Let me see if I have it correctly. You would have a large area surrounded by secure safety fences. Within which, the general public would pay to enter, and drive their carriages through, in order to safely witness exotic animals in what would be, as near as could be arranged, their natural habitat."

"That's broadly it, sir, yes" said Dibbler, looking relieved.

"The wildlife including lions. And baboons, which are a large predatory ape. And rhinoceri. And people would then drive carriages, possibly open-topped ones, through this park to see the animals at close quarters. Carriages drawn by horses. And you see no little…problems… with this picture?"

"The idea can always be fine-tuned, sir. In the light of experience"

"Indeed, mr Dibbler. Indeed. "

Vetinari paused, and steepled his fingers.

"But first, to raise extra cash, you exhibited your newly acquired menagerie in Hide Park."

"And the locks on the cages were a bit iffy. Definite bad workmanship there, m'lord!"

"Or a case of the zookeeper skimping on essentials. And they escaped. Or some of our more _mischievous_ elements, and regrettably this city has them in abundance, sensing potential for amusement, undid the locks and bolts. Your workmen ran for it. And we now have a choice selection of Howondalandian wildlife seeking to colonise Hide Park and make it a home from home for themselves."

Vetinari frowned.

"Captain Carrot, why did you not take action earlier?"

"No laws had been broken, sir. Of course Watchmen were sent to the docks to investigate a dangerous cargo being landed, but the import licences and documentation seemed legal enough, and there's no bar on a citizen owning these animals – although we'd be obliged if you ruled on that, maybe restore the Dangerous Animals Act of 1648…"

"Noted. Carry on!"

"I elected to monitor the situation, sir, and sent a priority report to you at the Palace. Watchmen accompanied the animal cages to the Park and kept myself and Mr Vimes informed. When the trouble began, we evacuated the park, as far as we can ascertain.

"I've set a roadblock at every entrance or exit composed of a Golem and a Troll. Mr Vimes is down there now supervising. He reckons if the lions have enough meat to eat, they'll happily stay there and won't bother foraging into the city. Which should make it easier to recapture them. The rhinoceroses might be a different proposition altogether."

"Hence the trolls and the golems." Vetinari observed.

"Mr Ambassador, are there any other steps we should take? This is your country's wildlife, after all."

Pieter van der Graaf wiped his brow. He was near retirement age: maybe he should ask Pratoria to consider either a less demanding posting or early retirement back to the family farm, where he could just while away his days drinking cold beer on the stoep and looking out over the veldt. "My Lord, you hev esked for an expert in these metters to edvise es to the proper course of ection. I understand thet she will be here shortly. But what I _would_ like to know is the name of the essociate in Howondalaand who illegally exported the enimels which are causing the trouble".

Dibbler looked guilty and even more rodent-like, if anything.

Drumknott discreetly returned.

"Clerk Richardson sends apologies, sir. He contacted the lady and expressed your wish that she attend you at her earliest convenience. But when he told her the situation, she ran to the Assassins' Guild, telling him she was going to organise the equipment she needed and get some people together to use it. She did vouchsafe to him that she would drop by as soon as she could to brief you."

Vetinari nodded.

"Good. She seems to be a most capable young lady, and I'd rather she was out there doing something practical to restore the situation. Captain, Commander Vimes has been instructed to give her every assistance, and I trust he won't let his personal prejudice against Assassins get in the way?"

"He did punch the wall rather hard, sir, yes, when I relayed your wish to put an Assassin in charge." Carrot said, looking uneasy.

"Has a plasterer been informed?"

"It was rather an _old_ wall, sir, with weak mortar. I've taken the liberty of requesting a bricklayer."

Vetinari smiled a slight smile.

"Capital." he said.

Running feet were heard in the anteroom. A Dopplering shout came from a Palace guard of "'Ere, miss, you can't just go running in.." followed by a grunt and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Johanna Smith-Rhodes ran into the Oval Office, and paused, reflecting that a fully-equipped Assassin running into the Patrician's office shortly after disabling an obstructive guard might not be giving _quite_ the correct impression.

She rubbed her knuckles thoughtfully, and said

"Sir, you wished to see me?"

Followed by

"Well, don't look at me like _thet._ Thet bleddy guard was in my wey! And I didn't inhume him, I just humanely incepeciteted him!"

"He will be spoken to when he regains consciousness." said the Patrician. A thought struck him. "He _will_ regain consciousness, I trust?"

"Sir, you know yourself we never inhume the hired help. There are _stenderds!_ "

"Indeed, miss Smith-Rhodes. Please be seated?"

Johanna looked around her, smiled warmly, and kissed the Ambassador on the cheek with a fond "Hi, Onkle Piet!", then sat down. She crossed her legs.

"I spoke to Lord Downey" she said, "who authorised me to use eny or ell Guild resources I need in support of the city."

_Downey was also very happy that I've been put in to manage this above Vimes' head_ she thought. _If he can help embarrass Vimes in any way, Downey can be relied on completely._

I hev ordered a quantity of meteriel to be sent to Hide Park, es well es thirty-five student Essessins who I know to be competent in enimel menegement. My colleague Madame Deux-Épées is supervising the students in getting it there, but I know she is not at her best in this sort of work. I hope thet within the next twelve hours, we will heve rounded up ell the enimels and hev them in a safe place. It would help if I knew how meny of each kind there are to be collected."

"By all means." Vetinari passed over a thin buff folder, which she accepted with thanks.

Then Johanna Smith-Rhodes looked across at Dibbler. She looked hard and her eyes narrowed, in a not especially friendly way.

"You've got femmilly in Howondaland, heven't you? Beck in Pretoria, there's a street trader who looks just like you do. Sells the sort of things you sell. His name is Klaus van Dijbbler."

"Kith and kin?" Dibbler asked, hopefully. "A lot of us have family in the colonies, miss."

"_Sell-me-own-wife-to-the-Kwa'Zulu_ van Dijbbler." Johanna repeated. "He's the man who sold you these enimels, isn't he?"

Dibbler's uneasy silence said everything. Vetinari raised an eyebrow at the Ambassador.

"I will inform Pretoria, my lord." he said. Vetinari nodded.

"Capital. Captain Carrot, see to it that Mr Dibbler remains conveniently close at hand for the foreseeable future, if you please. Miss Smith-Rhodes, I will not detain _you_. You have a job to do."

Johanna nodded, excused herself, and set to work.

__________________________--

She found Commander Vimes at the Nonesuch Street entrance to Hide Park. The looming bulk of Sergeant Detritus was posed in the middle of the path, levelling his massive crossbow in the direction of a rhinoceros that was standing facing him three hundred or so yards away, both looking equally uncertain as to what to do about a creature it had never encountered before. Johannna reflected that there are no trolls in Howondaland: the climate is far too hot for their comfort, not to mention their sentience, all year round. Similarly, she was prepared to lay large bets that wherever Detritus was from, the black rhinoceros was not part of the local fauna. Uncharitably, she also compared two creatures, one of which was renowned for its default recourse to brute force and ignorance so as to physically sweep away obstacles, and the other was a large herbivorous pachyderm with a spike on its nose.

Vimes nodded sourly at her.

"So you're the gir…woman… Vetinari wants in charge?" he asked, in a carefully neutral voice. She smiled at him.

"Commender, I'm not going to give orders to your Wetchmen." she said.

"Glad to hear it!"

"I will, however, make _recommendations._ And because I'm from Howondaland and I heppen to be the person here who knows the most ebout those enimels, it would be prudent for you to eccept my edvice."

Vimes looked stonily at her for a moment, and then nodded.

"That makes sense." he said, at length, as if fighting an inner battle with himself. He nodded over to the two sergeants who had joined them.

"Angua, Cheery. Put it out that miss Smith-Rhodes here is _advising_ us on how to deal with the wildlife. If she gives any Watchman her advice, I want that person to do as she tells…_asks_…them. If they _don't _and they're still alive afterwards, they're answering to me, OK?"

"Clear, sir." said Angua, who grinned and winked at Johanna. She smiled back, aware of having made an ally.

"My first request. Cen Sergeant Detritus be persuaded to put down thet crossbow? If at all possible, I wish to cepture that rhino _elive._ I _really_ don't went to sweep up several tons of finely ground rhinoceros meat. Providing raw meteriel for Dibbler's sausage-in-a-bun business is _not_ my greatest priority!"

"Ah yes. Dibbler." Vimes went silent for a moment.

"Your Ceptain Cerrot hes him. The Petricien hes requested Mr Dibbler be found a nice comforteble cell for tonight.. But first, the rhino? Sergeant Detritus' crossbow?"

"Of course." Vimes said. He strode forward to confer with the huge troll, who saluted and laid his weapon down. Then Detritus spat on his hands and rubbed his palms together, bracing his legs and flexing his silicon muscle.

Johanna overcame her fascination to see Emmanuelle waving frantically at her from a hundred yards away. Several laden carts had been parked up, their horses skittish at the sound and smell of distant lions. A group of student Assassins of various ages were waiting expectantly. She ran over to join them.

"I have brought you everything you needed. Now you're here as the expert person, may I perhaps leave?" Emmanuelle inquired. Johanna ran her eyes over the carts.

"Unhitch the horses!" she ordered the carters. "They know there are lions over there, they are already close to penic, and if they bolt, I do not went them to be pulling a cert with my equipment on it! But tether them, for when they will be needed again."

She selected one of the very largest animal cages.

"But first, take this cert over to where those Wetchmen are standing. I think it will be needed soon."

She selected six students.

"Go over there with this cage. Move!"

Emmanuelle gave Johanna another dignified nudge.

"_Then_ may I leave? I am sure I'm needed back at the Guild."

Johanna smiled.

"Poor Emmie. You really eren't enjoying this, ere you?"

Noises more suited to the Howandaland savannah came floating over from Hide Park. The chattering of chimpanzees, the distant roar of a lion, and the scream of a hyena. The horses trembled again as their handlers sought to calm them. Feeling quite at home and at ease with the situation, Johanna squeezed her friend's arm.

"Come and wetch this. You'll enjoy it!"

Back on the path, the confrontation between Detritus and the rhinoceros was just about to get terminal. Vimes and the two sergeants stepped aside for cover as the rhino began to lumber up to its maximum turn of speed. Detritus braced himself for impact and nodded at the animal. He took a pace forwards.

Johanna nodded to Emanuelle.

"Elpha males. Neither hes seen the other before, but each knows only thet the other is male, and a threat thet will not beck down. You cen see them squaring up for a big fight! It's in their genes, poor things!"

Emmanuelle giggled, despite being well outside her comfort zone.

"The poor boys. Too much testosterone, _n'est ce que pas_?"

The students joined them. Johanna said "Observe". They did.

A charging rhino is a magnificent and frightening sight. Ten tons of armoured pachyderm lumbering at you with fixed intent – and horn – while all the time squaring you up with its little piggy eyes, so as to get the horn just _so – _is usually quite intimidating. Most people tend to try to get out of the way.

But "most people" is not a set that includes Detritus as a member.

The troll stood his ground right up until the moment he caught the rhino's horn in both massive hands. Even so, the impact forced him backwards, his heels digging two huge gouges into the ground underneath his feet, until the two of them came to a halt several yards later, a vindicated troll and a puzzled-looking rhino, a rhino clearly processing the unfamiliar neural message of _that wasn't meant to happen!_ And _That's never happened before!_

Detritus smiled, freed up a hand, balled a fist, and smacked it right between the eyes. The rhinoceros looked baffled and fell over to one side, impacting the grass with an audible and earth-shaking crash.

The troll looked over to Johanna and saluted.

"Where do you want der thing, miss?"

"Cen you lift it into the cage on the beck of thet cert, sergeant?"

There are limits even to troll strength: it took two trolls and a golem to lift the unconscious rhinoceros into the cage. Johanna noticed the golem was wearing what looked like an outsize fur stole… Constable Dorfl caught her eye and said

"The Large Cat Was Seeking To Leave The Park. I Subdued It And Kept It With Me For Safekeeping. Do You Wish Me To Place It In Another Cage?"

Johanna noticed the lion was conscious, but very, very, frightened at something outside its experience that had effortlessly lifted it off the ground by the scruff of its neck, as if it were a domestic tabby. No wonder it was playing dead as the safest strategy available to it.

"Yes, please. Bring it over here. To this cage, I think."

Vimes grinned at her.

"You might not need all those student Assassins you brought with you, miss!"

Johanna nodded and her eyes narrowed. This felt like a challenge. She called her pupils together and issued orders.

Then suddenly she sensed things moving in the air, and her skin prickled. She quickly retrieved her personal hunting crossbow from the back of a cart – thank you, Emmanuelle, for remembering – cocked and nocked, and swept the sky with its tip. The telescopic hunting sight brought things into sharper focus: two wizards on a broomstick, one brandishing a large hunting crossbow and bellowing "Tally-Ho!"

She swore oaths in spiky barbed-wire Vondalaans.**(1)** At least two of her students blushed.

"You were not meant to hear that, Miss van Kruger!" she said, not turning her head. "nor you, miss N'Gulate".

"We understand, miss!" the two students chorused together. She grinned.

"Do you sometimes forget some of _your_ students speak Quirmian?" she asked Emmanuelle, who smiled.

The broomstick spiralled down and Arch-chancellor Ridcully leapt off the back, brandishing a huge hunting crossbow. He paused to admire the rhino in the cage.

"So it's true, then!" he said to Sam Vimes. "Ye Gods, Sam, I want one of those heads on me office wall! What a bag!"

"Er, Mustrum…" Vimes said, tapping him on the shoulder and indicating where a furious-looking Johanna Smith-Rhodes had emerged from the undergrowth.

"She's in charge. Patrician's orders."

Ridcully turned to see what looked like an avenging red-haired angel, if angels could be said to wear Howondaland safari suits, hands on hips and lips pursed in deep, deep, disapproval. The angel carried a variety of lethal-looking weaponry, with a hunting crossbow of her own slung across her back.

"Not on MY safari, Erch-chencellor!"

"Ah. You're the young lady from the Assassins' Guild, aren't you? The Howondalandian gel who teaches zoolology and nature studies. M'brother speaks approvingly of you. Says you've come on a treat since coming to the city."

Johanna, who knew the high Priest Hughnon Ridcully, and could testify to the devious corkscrew mind that laid underneath the bluff and harrumphing exterior, recognised much the same in his brother. All the same, she wasn't going to have this while she was in charge.

"If you think for one instent thet I'm going to let a bloodthirsty maniac loose on MY enimels.."

"That's a bit strong, m'dear!"

"Well, whet would YOU call somebody whose only interest in wildlife is having it stuffed and mounted to heng on his office wall es a trophy?"

Ridcully paused.

"A hunter?" he said, hopefully.

"I can see a clash of cultures here!" Vimes said, grinning. "well, I can see you two are getting on like a house on fire, so I'll leave you to it. By the way, _try_ not to shoot or trap any wolves you see? Segeant Angua might get annoyed."

"It'd need silver for that one, Sam. You've got her in there spyin' out the land for you?"

"Members of the Watch are on undercover operations, yes. Covert surveillence."

"Shall I take the broomstick home, sir?" a young wizard called. He was clean-shaven, bespectacled and had a look of perpetual anxiety.

"No! said Johanna. "Get up there, circle the park, end _wetch._ Elert me if enything serious sterts to heppen."

Ponder Stibbons looked to Ridcully for approval. Ridcully looked to Vimes, who said "Damn good idea. Do as she says, would you? Aerial observation would help a lot".

"Orf you go, Stibbons! Tell me where the rest of these rhinoceroses happen to be!"

Johanna took a deep breath. She addressed her students.

"Kommando one! You will come with me. Kommando two! You will go with Madame Deux-Épées, as directed. See she receives a crossbow for her personal defence. Kommandos three, four and five, you are under the command of the senior student as nominated. I think we cen safely leave our certs and heavier equipment here until they are called for. I do not think the equipment will be stolen or tempered with if it is mede clear it belongs to the Guild. Not even freelence Thieves would be so stupid. Mr Ridcully, you will eccompany me, if you please! It seems to be the only wey to keep an eye on you."

Ridcully tipped his hat in acknowledgement, a twinkle playing about his eyes.

Johanna paused, and said

"Preperation. Plenning. Good care of equipment. Evoiding overconfidence. You have all heard these things stressed in the classroom. We will take fifteen minutes to check and prepare our equipment. Then we will go in. We are stalking lerge dangerous enimels. There is no room for error. This is not an exercise. This is _real._ Good luck, everybody!"

Thirty-five student Assassins, two teachers, and a wizard set about checking their equipment for an urban safari.

* * *

**(1) **On Roundworld, the equivalent language is _**Afrikaans. **_


	4. Big Game Hunting, AnkhMorpork style

_**The Urban Safari – Four. Big-game hunting in downtown Ankh-Morpork. **_

_And I know. With all there is to fit in, it's going to go into a fifth chapter..._

Hide Park is a large green space towards the rimward side of the city of Ankh. Never built on, despite the frequent petitions of property developers who weep at this prime city-centre land going to waste as a mere park and leisure and recreation space, when it could be _so_ much more productively used to build luxury mansionettes at a million dollars apiece, it serves as a green lung for the city and provides smells other than that of the river and the city of Morpork, over the water.

Bounded on its widdershins side by Nonesuch Street and on its turnwise side by The Soake, with Park Lane defining its Hubwards boundary, perhaps four or five square miles of the City are encompassed here. Mollymog Street cuts across it at its Rimwards extremity, and its rimwards-by-widdershins corner boasts the Gibbet and its square, one of the City's traditional execution sites for condemned criminals.

The Park itself boasts an extensive ornamental lake as its central feature, where in normal circumstances boats are hired out and people might go to relax on the water. The rest of the land is a natural vista of extensive grassy downs and paths and trails to walk, punctuated by the occasional coppice of trees, even small woods on the Gibbet side and on the Turnwise bank of the lake. Needless to say, an earlier Patrician with a better aesthetic sense than most absolutely forbade "Bloody Stupid" Johnson from re-designing the landscape of the park, and today the City is richer for it.

There is even a bandstand, which is occasionally used by musicians, the Musicians' Guild permitting. But as Ponder Stibbons notes from three hundred feet up, the bandstand is now alive with a different kind of life. Twenty or thirty small black monkeys – or are they apes? (Ponder wished the Librarian were nearby to ask about a potentially lethal point of protocol. _But then, that girl from the Assassins Guild would know. I'll ask her_.)

Ponder put the broomstick into hovering neutral, and made another meticulous note. He had carefully sketched out the park from above and was noting where the various sorts of animals had elected to gather. He was hampered in this by being a city boy who, outside zoos, and picture books he'd been given as a child, really knew not very much zoolology. It wasn't his field.

_BandStande: smallish black monkeys, or maybe apes. 20-30. also in surrounding trees. _

_Lager Versions of Same, possibly man-sized, in tall grass to Turnwise of lake. _

_Large Thinnges in lake. Might be Hippopotamuses. Do rhinoceroses swymme????_

_Definite__ lions on Grassland , Park Lane side of lake. Seem to be resting and sleeping._

_Large creatures, I know not what they Are, orange in colour, with long Neckkes, eating upper foliage on Trees, Mollymog Street side. Cat-like creatures (Leopardes?) watching them but not attacking, I think because Commander Vimes ordered Meat to be thrown to them to keep them Happy and for them not to eat people. _

_Also large Cow-like creatures with very big Horns. Lions watching them, but seem wary. No more than six. Located on Nonesuch side of lake._

_More monkey-like creatures, or perhaps apes, not like the other two kinds, thinner and browner, seem hostile, showed me their bottoms and screamed and threw…material… up as I flew over. Ten-fifteen of them. _

_Two more leopards or similar in picnic area. Seem intent on something up a tree which I cannot quite make out. White, strange shape and size. _

Ponder finished his note, stowed notebook and pencil in a pocket of his robe, and started a new circuit, looking for the teams of Assassins he knew were going to be operating in the Park. He tried to find the one led by the red-haired woman with the funny foreign accent, who was most definitely in charge. He also tried to remember the spell that would recharge the broomstick with magic when it was needed. Running out over a lawn full of lions would not be funny. Lazily, he counted the entrance gates to the Park, which periodically broke the walls and iron spiked railings that encompassed it. Three on Nonesuch, two on Park Lane, three on the Soake, and one on Mollymog. Even from three hundred feet, he could see the Troll watchmen assigned to keep watch at each Gate, each paired with a golem where it was practicable. And there was Vimes' command point, just by the main gate on Nonesuch. But where were these Assassins? Ponder tipped a metaphorical hat to them: he'd heard the School taught stealth and fieldcraft to its pupils. They were pretty good at it, then.

He sighed. He'd got into the habit of borrowing the university's only broomstick and taking it up for a ride whenever he needed some quiet thinking time. Brooms were seen as a witch thing: this method of flight had never caught on among Wizards, and Ponder soon discovered the uncontested joy of flying, getting far away from the HEM and being diplomatic to Ridcully, discovering how quiet it was a thousand feet up, only having to watch for occasional flying carpets and Constable Swires of the Watch in the airspace above the City. He'd got quite proficient at it, in fact: flying was the nearest thing he had to a hobby, outside the relentless demands of teaching students, running the HEM, and managing Mustrum Ridcully.

And then Ridcully had heard about the escaped wildlife in the Park and had demanded a chauffeured ride across the city…

Ponder Stibbons looked down, saw a flash of movement, recognised a brief glimpse of Assassin black, and pointed the nose of the broomstick downwards. At a lower level, he made out more student assassins, four, possibly five, and what looked like a locally camouflaged hunter, largely built, his hunting tweeds, what he called a ghillie suit, adorned with tufts and twists of grass and vegetation. He aimed to come in to land ten yards or so behind them, sensing the ground rising lazily to meet him.

"Good flyin', that man!" he heard Ridcully's approval coming to meet him, in a carrying stage whisper.

"Errr… the lady in charge? Miss Smith-Rhodes?" he asked, diffidently.

"I em here." she said, and rose from the ground no more than five feet away. He blinked: he could have sworn there had been nobody there.

"You bleddy nearly lended on top of me!" she said, accusingly.

"And three yerds further on, you'd hev lended on Miss N'Golate! I _need_ thet young girl!"

Ponder reddened. To his right, a voice said

"It's perfectly elright, miss. I saw him coming, end knew he'd lend short. There wes no reason for me to move."

The same sort of heavily accented Morporkian, he noticed. But where was it coming from? The ground shifted again. A girl of about fifteen, in assassin's garb, appeared from nowhere, shaking off loose grass. Her skin was very dark brown, almost pure black, and seeing Ponder's discomfort, she grinned incredibly white even teeth at him.

In the near distance, a lion growled.

Ponder hurriedly passed over his sketch map and notes. The red-haired girl – _woman's_ – expression changed from a narrow-eyed scowl, to something approximating nodding thanks. She scanned the pages, making a teacher's tutting noises. Miss N'Golate went over to look over her shoulder at the notes.

"They're celled _chimpanzees_, Mr Wizard. And they ere definitely apes!" Johanna said, in her teacher's voice. "There ere _gireffes_ here too? They're the orenge petterned ones with the long necks, Mr Wizard. If leopards ere stelking them, we need to take out the leopards! Or we will hev no gireffes. End the other sort of apes, the ones thet showed you their becksides, they ere _baboons_, Mr Wizard. This is importent, people! The baboon is a peck enimel. It is a predetor. It is cerniverous. It is vicious. It is intelligent enough to be deadly. A lion will kill for food. A baboon peck will kill for _pleasure_. We mey be forced to kill if we cennot cepture. I cen see that pleases you, Mr Ridcully!"

"Just glad you're willing to concede the possibility, m'dear!" said Ridcully, mildly. "One of them baboon things on me wall would make me day!"

"You might get your way yet." she nodded. "But I will hev lethal force used _only_ if there is no other elternetive. Em I clearly understood?"

The lion roared again, and closer.

Ponder watched the redhead as she quickly conferred with the black-skinned girl, who seemed excited and somehow impatient to get going.

Johanna smiled, the first time Ponder had seen her do so, and she took the black girl's shoulder in a gently restraining hand.

"I see you brought your assegai out with you. End your shield. Egainst instructions, miss N'Golate. I know what you want. I bet es a girl, you saw your brothers going out on the lion hunts and you wented to join them, you wented the lion-skin headbend of a _werrior_, yes? Well, you hev a chence now!"

"You know, Stibbons, this reminds me of that old joke." Ridcully said, affably. "What d'you call the black natives on a Howondalandian lion-hunt?"

Miss N'Golate turned and grinned at Ridcully.

"Bait, Arch-chancellor. I know the joke!"

Johanna smiled.

"End thet's _exectly _whet I went you to be! Now, these are Howondalandian lions from home. I'm betting they all know whet it means when a warrior leaps out in front of them with en assegai, end threatens it. Now while you have its entire ettention, other things will be heppening behind it…."

Ten minutes later, a mature male lion stalked across the grass, Johanna, concealed, nodded, and Miss N'golate rose slowly up from concealment.

"_Hai, simbaaaaa" _She sang the ancient Kwa'Zulu song of acknowledgement of the lion's strength and power, of its might and majesty, and of her challenge to its supremacy. The maned head turned to her, and it made a lunge forward. This was countered with a stabbing move of assegai and shield. Giving the impudent human its entire attention, the lion failed to watch its flanks, where other humans were moving and stalking. Lion and girl lunged and feinted, blocked and stabbed, leapt and evaded. Ridcully and Stibbons, with the other student Assassins not picked for this mission, watched with breathless excitement.

And then Johanna Smith-Rhodes was near enough to lift the blowpipe to her lips, aim, blow, and _pop! _The tiny feathered dart, loaded with a goodly amount of tranquiliser, embedded in the lion's flanks. From the opposite side, the student Assassin Peter Delamere also aimed and blew, and a second dart took the creature in the other flank. The lion carried on feinting with the impudent human girl for a minute or so, but its movements grew less certain and more sluggish. Then it fell over, practically on the feet of Blessing N'Golate, Student Assassin. She tapped the point of her assegai against the throat of the lion in a symbolic gesture, then raised it to the heavens and sang a song of victory in the hunt. Jonanna came round and clasped her shoulder, in thanks and acknowledgement. A student Assassin ran forward and planted a pole with a small red flag in the ground near the fallen lion, to make it easier for the squad who would be coming in after them to find the doped animal and transfer it to a cage.

"Oh, _bravo_, that girl!" Ridcully shouted, exultantly. He was quite enjoying the thrill of a different sort of hunt, even though Johanna had threatened to break his crossbow over his skull if he _dared_ kill anything without first receiving her explicit permission. Privately, he was quite taken with her rather forward and commanding attitude and was perfectly prepared, for now, to let her take charge. _And besides_, he thought, _there's the near promise of baggin' a couple of those baboon things. I can tell the gel don't like 'em._ Meanwhile, Johanna grudgingly appreciated the way Ridcully, like many large bulky men, was capable of surprisingly stealthy, agile, light, movement. His capacity to conceal himself and read the ground and animal sign was proving to be an asset, not the liability she had feared. He reminded her of Grune di Nivor at the Guild School, a similarly bluff and hearty oversized man, who nevertheless was agile and graceful for his size and years. _And besides, she though, if it comes to it and we have to take on a phalange of baboons, I need a proven killer who can shoot straight and fast. _

Johanna hugged Blessing N'Golate round the shoulders.

"You mey hev to do thet egain, end more than once. But you chellenged the lion, you fought the lion and countered its blows. When it fell, it fell at your feet. For my money, thet mekes you a _warrior,_ and I'll testify to thet to your people."

Johanna has moved on a lot in ten years. She knows her early interactions with black-skinned pupils were not good, and she has learnt a lot, beginning with tolerance and a more open-minded attitude. Ankh-Morpork has changed her in many ways.

She turned and looked at Ponder.

"Mr Wizard, cen thet broomstick of yours take two people? "

Ponder nodded, mutely.

"Get on, then. I need to see for myself where things ere. Miss N'Golate, you're in charge while I'm gone. These are Mr Wizard's notes for you to work with, keep moving onwerds, we'll cetch up with you.."

She leapt into the pillion position, grabbing Ponder round the upper body and leaning into him. Still mute and surprised, he took off. The stick spiralled lazily upwards, more slowly with the heavier load, but it carried two people with ease. Ponder felt oddly gratified that at last, he had a pillion passenger who instinctively knew which way to lean, and who was perfectly poised and balanced. He was also aware, in a way he wasn't entirely at home with, that from the way she pressed her body into his back, just _here_ and _here,_ she was definitely, unambiguously, female. A red flush spread across his cheeks.

As they flew, he found himself pointing things out to her. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her cheek close to his, and listened.

_Even though the way she speaks Morporkian sounds like somebody chewing a brick and spitting gravel, she's really quite attractive, _a traitorous thought spoke from the depths of Ponder's hindbrain.

"Bring it down just here" she requested, as they passed over the picnic area. She frowned. There was definitely something in that tree, something odd. And two cheetahs were circling the trunk, interested. And cheetahs could climb trees.

"Get close to thet tree."

Ponder pulled the stick into a tight orbit. The white in the tree resolved itself… into two clowns, in white outfits and heavily made-up faces. They called for help.

"Cen you meke this thing hover?"

Ponder obliged.

"Please, miss… we were enjoying the afternoon… Gonzo and me, we were working up a routine… then all these animals turned up from nowhere and people panicked. We got up into this tree"

Johanna nodded.

"Herd to do, in those shoes! Look, sit tight. There ere aid squeds in the perk. I'll see one finds you. If you cen find a brench, or something you cen use to hit things with, in case enything climbs the tree to find you."

She nodded at Ponder.

"Go down to ground level. Keep this thing powered up. When I leap on and tell you to go, I went full power, mr Wizard!"

"You've got it" said Ponder.

"He dropped Johanna off in a spot of her choosing, and waited for her while she got off and readied her blowpipe. She ran a few paces and crouched, waiting for the cheetahs to register her presence… first one, then the other, started running for her. She waited, and waited some more, while Ponder watched in a state of buttock-clenching fear. Then, at later than the last second, she fired, and swiftly thumbed a second dart into place, then fired again.

_Poc! Poc! _

Even before the second dart hit, she was back in the pillion.

"_Go! Mr Wizard!" _

Aware of the two big cats still charging, Ponder willed power into the broomstick. He felt a lurch from behind him, but no, she was still there, pressing herself into him and holding on tight. But then they we up, rising, banking, circling, back to where two more tranquilised animals were wobbling and falling among the wooden picnic tables.

"Those clowns should be safe now." she said, in his ear. "Cheetahs cen climb trees and take prey there."

As they rose, Johanna paused for a moment and enjoyed the sensation of pure flight. Her eyes closed, and she relished the slipstream against her face. She said "Mmmmm!" despite herself, and relaxed.

_I'm holding onto a man. Who is driving a fast machine. His body is warm and male. It may be such a thin body here under this robe that I could count the ribs, and he may be an inoffensive shy wizard who really needs feeding up, poor boy, but if you are honest with yourself, Johanna Smith-Rhodes, you are quite enjoying this. He's not like other men you've met. He's unthreatening. Nice, in his way. You could do with treating yourself to a little "nice". _

Johanna reflected that she didn't meet many men outside the Guild, and introducing herself at parties as an Assassin tended to put a dampener on romantic possibilities outside it (not that she went to many parties). People tended to make excuses and mumble and back off. And the men she met inside the Guild tended to bore her: too competitive, too aristocratic, too much of an ingrained sense of privilege. And men at home just wanted a pliant wife who'd bear lots of children. Besides, she'd been away from Home for too long: she couldn't settle down with a Boor man any more. Her horizons had widened too much. Her mother wailed that at twenty-nine, she was leaving it far too late and was doomed for spinsterhood. Well, if it came to it, she had her academic interests. Her teaching career. This Wizard had just accepted her and taken her at face value. And risked his life for her once. And he was introducing her to flying. She wanted to take off her hat, unplait her hair, and let it flow unhindered in the slipstream while she cuddled up really close…

_Johanna, you're working! This isn't a date! _An angry voice rose up inside her. Well, maybe there'd be time to make a date, who knows?

"I cen't keep calling you Mr Wizard." she said, into his ear. "Whet's your name? Whet did your mother cell you?"

"Oh. Er. Ponder. Ponder Stibbons."

"Johanna."

"Joanna?"

"No. YO-hanna. A herd "J" sound . ."

He repeated it.

"That's unusual. You're from Howondaland?"

"Femily name. The oldest girl in my femily is elways Johanna."

Then they saw the oddest sight of all…

"Isn't thet the Librarian from the Univeristy? Whet's he doing, Ponder?"

"Let's go and find out, Johanna".


	5. Of baboons and bananas

_**The Urban Safari – 5. Enter the hostage negotiator.**_

Emmanuelle sighed, philosophically. She reminded herself of the Assassins' School credo _Knowledge dispels fear_**,**** (1**_) _and reflected that at least she was learning new and potentially useful things.

It didn't make her feel very much better.

She was painfully aware that wide open spaces and large animals were Johanna's department. She knew little, except that the thing to do when attacked by a hungry lion was to beat it off with fire, or climb a tree very quickly indeed. At least she had six student Assassins with her, who, vexingly, all knew more about this subject than she did.

Emmanuelle reflexively checked her sword was still there. At least she knew _that_ inside-out. Indeed, she taught it at the Guild: the students with her had all been in her classes in Elementary Swordsmanship. _But I have never been in theirs in Animal Handling. _As a Guild teacher, though, it would have been unthinkable, a disgrace, to allow students into a place of danger while the teacher found an excuse to back out. She had to be there, even knowing nothing, as she did.

She sighed again, resigned, and reviewed the absurdities that had led her to the Guild. In one mad night, she had bet a lot of money she did not in fact have, and had no means of repaying, and lost it all, in an absurd rush of blood to the head, in a gambling casino. Owned by the accursed troll, Chrysophrase.

Who had made her an offer she could not, in the circumstances, refuse.

_You good wit' swords. You become my contract killer. You repay der money dat way. Then you free to go and you have der gratitude of Chrysophrase._

She had killed seven times for the troll. By the seventh and last, the _Tanty Bugle_ was calling her _The Black Widow _and she knew that both the Watch and the Assassins' Guild were actively hunting for her. On the night of her last kill, with the troll having said that this would discharge her debt, she had evaded the Watch, only to run into the Assassins' Guild, who were out in force hunting for her. _Downey said he had seventy Assassins out chasing me. Seventy! _She allowed herself a moment's pride.

Her pursuers, by sheer weight of numbers, had steered her across the rooftops back to the Guild. Where Downey had been waiting for her, to offer her a choice of joining the Guild as a mature entrant. Or being tied hand and foot, and left at the door of Pseudopolis Yard, with a dossier of evidence pinned to her clothing.

She had opted to join the Guild, reflecting that she'd far rather be inside and enjoying its protection, than outside and receiving its professional attentions. She had trained and qualified, and to her surprise had found herself actively enjoying teaching such capable and energetic and cheerful young people. And here she was…**(2)**

Just before her group had set off into the Park, Johanna Smith-Rhodes had called over Heidi van Kruger, and they'd had a short spiky discussion in that teeth-grinding native language of theirs. Johanna had looked over at Emmanuelle, and Heidi had nodded. She thought she could guess what had been said.

_Be diplomatic. She is still your teacher. But make it clear that you know the most about these animals. Madame Deux-Épées will understand and who knows, she may even be grateful! _

A strange low ululating howl resounded in the distance. Miss van Kruger touched her arm and drew her attention to the way a distant copse of trees had suddenly erupted with birds scared into flight.

"I hear baboon. And something hes scared the birds over there!"

Emmanuelle nodded.

"And what do you propose?" she asked. Miss van Kruger nodded.

"Miss Smith-Rhodes hes said not to epproach the baboons just yet" she said. "For now, we do whet we cen with the enimels we cen menege."

She turned, and passed the word along to "move forward. Carefully".

They moved steadily on, applying tranquiliser darts to two leopards and a juvenile lion, marking the sites with red flags so as to attract the follow-up squads of Assassins and Watchmen who they knew would soon be following on. A broomstick circled overhead: _the Wizard. I hope he has good eyesight with those thick glasses. _

Miss van Kruger stopped them within fifty yards of the suspicious wood. Trails led into it, but it otherwise stretched between the perimeter wall with the Soake and the turnwise shore of the lake. There appeared to be no safe way through or around it. And everything was suspiciously silent.

She conferred with Emmanuelle, who listened intently.

"Madame, I believe it would be foolish end overconfident to enter the wood. If dangerous apes are in there, they outnumber us, end they can etteck us from above. A baboon is _very_ much stronger then a humen, end cepeble of biting a person's arm off, and they ere territorial enimels. I strongly recommend we either wait here for reinforcements, or else we retreck, and go around the other side of the lake."

Emmanuelle had the uneasy feeling that this was a young lady who would end up on the School staff in a few years. She nodded, and said

"Perhaps we can wave that broomstick down when he passes over again. We should find out if he has seen anything in the trees."

They settled down to wait. After twenty minutes or so, the first follow-up squad caught up with them. It was composed of half Assassins and half Watchmen. Eight of them were carrying cages, strong but relatively light rectangular boxes, carried by poles slotted underneath the structure. These allowed for four people to share the load, one to each corner. The remaining four, two Assassins and two Watchmen, had fanned out to either side as escort.

The lance-constable in charge, a strongly built human woman, saluted Emmanuelle.

"Lance-Constable Jolson, ma'am. Commander Vimes said to give you every assistance."

"Eh bien!" said Emmanuelle. She'd seen Precious Jolson about the streets: she stood well over six feet tall and had a build to match. Unlike her father, restauranteur "All" Jolson, none of it was fat. It was said Precious had the muscles of a troll: Emmanuelle didn't doubt it. **(3)**

Heidi van Kruger took her arm. "Look!"

Shambling man-like shapes were moving in the shade at the edge of the wood. They had elongated snouts and, as one threw back its head to roar a challenge, Emmanuelle also saw they had large wicked fangs.

"_Defensive position! Now!"_ she shouted, as the number of creatures increased. She reached for her sword. Suddenly, a large dog-shaped creature emerged from the wood, evaded a chasing baboon, smelt or saw nearby humans, and raced hard for them.

"Attention! Tirez-pas au loup! Do not shoot the wolf!" Emmanuelle shouted, remembering her briefing. The Watchman next to her gave her a knowing grin.

"Wouldn't _dare_, ma'am. She gets annoyed at that sort of thing!"

The large golden wolf burst through the circle of Watchmen and Assassins, and gave Emmanuelle a more intelligent and appraising look than she would have thought was possible from a canine. It had a quality of _impatience _about it, as if it was expecting Emmanuelle to figure something out that should be self-evident to any thinking rational woman.

Precious Jolson stepped to her side. She leaned down slightly and spoke, softly, into Emmanuelle's ear.

"Er.. Madame Deux-Épées… I think she wants to change to human. She doesn't like anyone watching. And something else you should be aware of… she won't have any clothes available. There are men here."

Emmanuelle got the idea instantly. She took her cloak off and said "I understand. Will this do for now?"

The wolf nodded, in a very human way. Emmanuelle noted the baboons were cautiously approaching, although slowly.

"And ALL Assassins and ALL Watchmen, and I mean ALL, will have the kindness to face outwards and will NOT try to look over their shoulders! ESPECIALLY the men! _Allez! Vite!_ _Regardez les singes_!"

The wolf slipped inside the circle. Emmanuelle took care not too look, but made the courtesy of holding her cloak in an extended left arm. After a few seconds it was taken. A voice with a slight Überwaldean accent said "Thank you. Have you got a belt I can hold this in place with?"

"I cen offer you some spere clothes, miss," Heidi van Kruger said, taking off her pack. "I do not believe thet cloak is enough."

"Thank you" Angua said, receiving the offered tunic and trousers gratefully. The cloak wasn't: it gaped in front in a most distracting way. Emmanuelle realised the males present would be distracted by entirely the wrong things at a time when they needed to be focused on a threat. This would not do.

"_Mr Edale- Derbyshire_!" Emmanuelle shouted, a teacher again. "Is there perhaps something wrong with your hearing, hmm? I said to _face your front_!"

A male student Assassin blushed red to his ears, but did what he was told. Emmanuelle watched while Angua doffed the cloak, and put on the offered Assassin clothing.

_Alice Band has been eager for a chance to see Sergeant Angua naked, but she has never managed it, _Emmanuelle thought, mischievously._ I will relish the look on her face when I so casually tell her I have seen what she has not, and I will tell her as if it is no great matter! _

"You also need footwear" Heidi said, practically. "What size do you take?"

"Fives, I think" Angua said. At least three of the girl students reached into their packs for the light, durable, leather pumps all girl Assassins carried for those times when a silent stealthy approach argued against boots. They looked like ballerina shoes, enclosing only the heel and sides of the foot with a minimal toe, leaving the upper part of the foot bare, but they would serve.

Courtesies over, the Watch sergeant and the Assassin teacher appraised each other. Emmanuelle was a Quirmian: part of her genes carried the memory of all the times Überwaldeans had over-run her country, humiliatingly defeating the Quirmian army and even more humiliatingly for Quirmian pride, making them dependent on Ankh-Morpork to come in and throw the Überwaldeans out again. Therefore she had a certain _froideur_ towards the country and its people, even though the last time Quirm had even briefly been a part of the Dark Unholy Empire had been 1944, long before her birth. **(4)**

"You people are in charge, according to Mr Vimes." Angua said, reassuringly. "I don't have a problem with that. Miss Smith-Rhodes really knows her business, and I see from the purple you're also from the Guild school. So what do you recommend we do?"

"We deter these monkeys, I think." Emmanuelle said. "Although Miss Smith-Rhodes is _absolutely_ insistent we do not kill unless we have to."

"I've just come out of those woods" Angua said. "Barely. I have certain skills, and they gave me the edge. Although Miss Smith-Rhodes _will_ find one dead ape in there. I really had no other choice."

Angua remembered the sour metallic taste of the ape blood in her mouth, and shuddered. "Does anyone have water?"

She had entered the woods with caution and all her wolf-senses working overtime. She had picked up the acrid, nauseous, stench of feral apes very quickly. A _lot _of feral apes. Seeking a quick withdrawal, she ran into the pack's scouts, who had responded to the signals telling them _predator! Smells like hyena but not-hyena, smells like Basenji-dog but not basenji, smells like human but not completely human. Threat! _

The werewolf-growl had made them stop, recognising a _really _primal threat, but then one, braver or stupider than the rest, possibly the pack leader, had howled, bared its great fangs, and leapt for her. Seeing the bared teeth, the _big_ bared teeth, Angua as wolf had responded to the threat with a practical demonstration of what a wolf was capable of, so you apes had better _learn_ from this!

Knowing she had only one chance before the ape's teeth tore into her, Angua had tensed, leapt, and ripped its throat out, the howl dying in bloody choking surprise. After that she had just run for her life, recognising the mixed party of Watchmen and Assassins, with the tiny part of her that was still human registering _friends._

And now the human part was feeling guilt at killing an animal that was doing, when you got right down to it, only what its nature dictated. _She_ usually had a choice.

Heidi van Kruger nodded, sympathetically, mature for her sixteen years.

"You really hed no choice, madam. Wolves are not known beck home. You do not know baboons. You hed to prove superior strength with them, or else they would hev killed _you_. At least they now know wolves are not to be trifled with. Beck home in Howondaland, we treat baboons with respect, end give them a wide berth. We try not to kill them, like we try with ell our wildlife, but sometimes there is really no elternetive. Miss Smith-Rhodes knows this and she will understend."

"Thank you." said Angua, passing the water bottle back.

The baboon pack was now circling them, just out of effective blowpipe range.

Emmanuelle made her decision.

"All Assassins. Prepare and load blowpipes with the tranquiliser darts. Have your swords or crossbows to hand for the moment when you may need them. All Watchmen, please be so kind as to load your crossbows, safety catches off – I may give that command, Sergeant Angua?"

"Do as she says. That's _my_ order." Angua said.

"But do not fire unless commanded. You will, I think, know the moment."

"Do _not_ let them get close enough to bite or grepple". Heidi van Kruger added. "They ere stronger then humans and their bite cen maim or kill. Their claws are filthy and a deep scretch or gouge _will_ go septic. I believe we _mey_ hev to kill here."

The baboons carried on circling the mixed group of humans. Emmanuelle counted at least eighteen, the largest man-sized. She loosened her sword in its scabbard and the corresponding dirk at her left side. She knew where she was with her swords. She passed the redundant crossbow to Angua, who accepted it with thanks. They watched the great apes, nerves taut.

And then, with ear-splitting whoops, they attacked.

_______________________________________----

Having seen CMOT Dibbler ushered into a comfortable cell at the Palace, Captain Carrot hastened to Hide Park. He reflected, stopped, and put out an emergency clacks signal for all Special Constables who were immediately available to report to the command post at the park gates. He thought some more, and . added a second priority clacks, for the Watch Igor and any other available Igors to report there with medical equipment. A little intuition was telling him that medical support would be needed before the day was out.

He had not been walking long before the first of the Specials met him on the Brass Bridge. This particular constable saluted, and inquired as to the nature of the emergency.

Carrot told him as they walked.

"Oook ook ook?"

"Well, I assume so. The briefing at the Palace referred to large cats, rhinoceri, and other examples of Howondalandian wildlife. I would assume that includes, er, simians. I understand the term includes both lesser monkeys and the true apes, so there's a strong chance, yes."

"OOK! Ook ook ook ook OOK?"

Carrot smiled at the Librarian.

"Don't raise your hopes, though. The briefing notes were clear that these are only Howondalandian animals. Orangs aren't from Howondaland, I understand?"

The Librarian shrugged, which for someone of his build was very expressive.

"Oook ook ook!" he said, which Carrot interpreted as "that's not the point. Any apes in there are still family."

An idea was beginning to form in Carrot's brain. He didn't share it with the librarian: he wanted to run it past that fierce, clever, Howondalandian girl first, to see if it was feasible. What if…

They passed a greengroce'rs shop.

The Librarian pulled at Carrot's arm, excitedly, to get him to stop.

"What is it? Oh…."

Carrot followed the Librarian into the shop. The owner was responding to the Librarian with all the alarm and apprehension which the owner of a greengrocer's s'hop is perfectly entitled to feel, when a large ape known to appreciate bananas and other soft fruit (but bananas for preference) ru'shes into the store, and begins to pull down enormous hands of the aforementioned s'oft fruit from the hook's upon which they are suspended.

"Here, you!" the proprietor shouted. "I hope you intend to pay for tho'se good's!" **(5)**

He leapt from behind the counter, with the intention of dis'pos'sess'ing the Librarian of the banana's.

A long hairy red arm flicked out and cas'ually knocked him over. It held a Watch badge for his inspection.

Carrot, who now appreciated what the Librarian was up to, wheeled in a barrow from the front of the shop. The Librarian dropped four full hands of bananas' onto the trolley, and as an afterthought added s'everal boxes of peache's, plum's and apricot's.

The proprietor made a dizzy move to get onto his feet again. The Librarian smiled at him, amiably baring a lot of teeth.

"I'm terribly sorry about this, Mr S'medley!" Carrot said. "But I have reason to requisition everything we need from your shop's stock in the name of the City. Please make an accurate invoice for what we've taken and direct the bill to the Palace. Thank you!"

"Think nothing of it, Captain Carrot!" Mr 'Smedley said, weakly.

"Thank you for your co-operation!" Carrot said, amiably, as he and the Librarian wheeled the barrow in the direction of Hide Park.

They picked up several more Specials as they walked, Carrot briefing them on the situation.

"By the way, what's that, Lance-Constable Hancock?"

The keenest Special saluted.

"It's a Toledean _bolas_, sir!" he said. "You whirl the ropes, right, and the weights on the end wrap around the running criminal, he get entangled in the ropes, he falls over, we arrest him. They use it on the pampas for capturing horses and llamas, sir!"

"What, like Hubland monks?" said another Special. "Thought they were _really_ law-abiding?"

"No, no. _Llamas._ They're a sort of pack-animal over in the Toledan country. Out towards Genua."

"No, you've got it wrong, Andy! Llamedos is the other direction, where they speak funny and spit a lot…"

Carrot smiled, and left them bickering.

They got to the gates of the Park. Vimes had set up his command-post there, and Carrot saw he had been joined not only by the Watch Igor, but by the new Igorina who had recently been appointed Matron at the Assassins' Guild School. They were talking shop.

"I don't know about you, but when I realised Miss Smith-Rhodes had brought a lot of students out here, I just _knew_ I'd be needed!" she said. "Every time I've been on a Nature Trail with her, I've had an interesting injury to deal with. She never disappoints. And with Madame Deux-Épées out there _too_… well, let's just say I make sure the surgery is available for after she's taught a class in Elementary Swordsmanship. They get better as they get older, but give new students a sword with a blade on, and there's always a finger or two to stitch back on! At least! You'd be _amazed_."

"Oh, I don't know" said the Watch Igor. "You should see what I have to deal with at the Watch School. We have the same problem with new recruits and swords. And crossbows. And Mr Hancock over there, hi Andy!, he gave me a really interesting reattachment after he took the Agatean swords on parade with him. Let's just say Lance-Constable Piggle _never_ stands next to Andy in the muster these days!"

Vimes was watching with interest.

"Hold on, the both of you" he said. "You have just been talking to each other for ten minutes and I've yet to hear a single lisp! What's going on?"

"Oh, really, Commander Vimeth!" said Igorina. "I can put it on for you if it maketh you feel better, and I know thome cuthtomerth feel better for hearing it, _but it simply isn't necessary_!"

"We're modern Igors, sir!" Igor said, reproachfully. "I mean, many of my father's generation still can't accept that an Igorina is as capable as an Igor!"

"But _you_ do, though. Why don't you.. you know… come over and see my surgery at the Assasins' Guild? They've given me a _lot _of space. With a cellar for my private lab!" Igorina said, thoughtfully, trying to get her eyes to meet Igor's. Their hands were having more luck, though, and had clasped. Vimes sighed, anticipating there'd soon be another whip-round for a Watchman getting engaged or married. He very deliberately looked elsewhere.

"What's with the fruit-stall, Carrot? A side business?"

"No, sir. The Librarian's idea, sir! He reckons he can get any apes in there to give themselves up peacefully. Hostage negotiation, I suppose you could call it. These are the inducements!"

The Librarian saluted Vimes, then very purposefully slung two hands of bananas over his back. He took a step towards the gate.

"Don't you need an escort or anything?" Vimes asked. "I mean, there are lions and things out there."

"Less than there were, in fairness. Patrols coming out at the other gates are bringing out cages full of doped animals. We're going to have a problem as to where we send them all. I mean, a lion in parts of this city is in trouble. It'll be an ornamental fur rug and a shelf-full of Agatean medicines by morning!" said Sergeant Cheery Littlebottom.

"In which case, that Howondalandian woman is going to want my guts for garters." Vimes mused. "And wouldn't you know it, I bet with a temper like hers, she'd be the first Assassin to get me!" He paused, visualising a _really_ angry Johanna Smith-Rhodes, It was not a prospect that comforted. He dragged his mind back to immediate police matters.

"But you need an escort, Constable."

"Ooook!" the Librarian said, which all present interpreted as "An ape's gotta do what an ape's gotta do".

Resolutely, he knuckled into the park, the bananas slung at his back. Vimes let him get a couple of hundred yards in.

"Sergeant Detritus, follow him, discreetly and inobtrusively. Don't intervene unless it looks like he's run into trouble he can't handle. Let him have space to do what he needs to do. Don't alarm any animals he appears to be speaking to."

"Sir!" said Detritus, saluting. Vimes summoned up Constable Bluejohn to replace Detritus on large-animal-alert, and started scanning the skies again for the return of that dratted woman on the broomstick. _At least that poor bloody wizard is the one getting it in the neck from her, _he thought.

__________________________________

**I may add more to this chapter, or I may end it here (it's long enough) and put it all in Chapter Six. Watch this space...**

**(1) **_Knowledge Dispels Fear _is a motto used by the British Army's special forces. Ideal for use by Assassins on the Disc.

**(2) **See my novella _**The Graduation Class**_ for the full story.

**(3) **Watchwoman Precious Jolson appears in **"**_**Thud**_**!", **as another background character. Fred Colon speaks highly of her physical strength.

**(4) **Sorry to French and German readers. Couldn't resist this.

**(5) **The peculiarly Britis'h phenomena of the Groce'rs Apos'trophe which i's randomly and hopefully ins'erted wherever the letter "s" tur'ns up in a di'scours'e , but _never_ in the grammatically correct place, is' dis'cuss'ed at length in Terry Pratchetts novels'.


	6. Red in tooth and claw and Banana

_**The Urban Safari – 6.**_

Ridcully and his party made their careful way forwards and deeper into the Park, on the opposite Rimwards bank of the lake from the one taken by Emmanuelle. It wasn't as thickly forested on this side: there were just a couple of isolated coppices of trees that did not significantly impede vision.

Behind them, a clear-up squad was just leaving the park, a troll and a golem carrying a cage in which were three soundly sleeping lions.

Ridcully and the Zulu girl took stock of where they were. Some distance away in the lake, they could see two large indeterminate brownish-grey somethings, followed by two smaller ones, wallowing slowly in the waters. They looked perfectly and blissfully at home.

"Hippopotamuses?" Ridcully ventured.

"A femily group." the girl confirmed. "Best we leave them for now. They'll do no demmege end they're heppy there. They will not leave, and they cen get ennoyed with people who try to make them."

Right on the other shore of the lake, they could pick out Emmanuelle's expanded group, cages abandoned for the moment, adopting an all-round defensive position. After a while, they picked out the man-like simians in the trees, watching from the woods' edge.

"Hopefully, Miss Smith-Rhodes will hev noticed thet. Perheps we should back-track and move thet wey to offer support?"

Ridcully, still hankering for a couple of trophy heads, sighed regretfully.

"Wouldn't do, m'dear. The woods are solid on that side. You can't go any further by walkin' _around_ them, you have to go _through_ them. You don't follow a dangerous animal into its own sort of country, that's askin' for trouble, followin' a bunch of killer monkeys into a forest where they can get into the trees over your head. We'll all just pile up in a heap, in front of a forest we can't enter, and nothing gets done."

They heard the lowing of a large bovine in the distance.

"But _that_ interests me. Shall we go and run an eye over the beef?"

Ridcully's mixed group walked on, with care. Then Miss N'golate signalled for a stop. Ridcully breathed out covetuously.

"I _say_! Take a look at the horns on one of _those _fellows!"

"Bewildebeeste, Mr Ridcully."

Six or seven adult animals. One definitely a bull, most of the rest cows, with some young protectively herded into the middle if their elders. They were all facing outward with "Are you feeling lucky, punk?" gleams in their beady bovine eyes, following the movements of a pack of lions who were as yet only circling, stalking the massive cows.

"Lions will only go for en edult bewildebeest if they are desperate." the girl whispered. "They will try to take a celf, or en old sick enimel, but they know en edult cen kill a grown lion. Either with the horns or by trempling under the hooves."

"I'd say while their attention is elsewhere, you people could bag a couple more lions with those clever drugged darts of yours" suggested Ridcully. She nodded.

"I wes thinking thet too."

_________________________________

Meanwhile, Vimes was gloomily contemplating the bottleneck of returned cages that was building up.

"Where the Hell are we going to send them, Carrot?" he demanded. "They won't stay asleep for ever and the squads going back in to pick up more are soon going to run out of empty cages. Wish that bloody woman would stop joy-riding and come back down to earth again!"

"I've got an idea, sir." Carrot said, diffidently. "You know I spend my days off walking around the city and getting to know things, where all the Guild museums and curiosities are? Well, you know there's a menagerie at the Patrician's Palace? He was kind enough to let me tour it one day. The thing is, sir, Lord Vetinari told me he considers it a relic of the past that he wants to let run its course naturally.. He's maintaining it and looking after the animals that are still there – he uses Miss Smith-Rhodes as an advisor, incidentally – but he isn't replacing them as they get old and die off. When I visited with Angua, more than half the cages were empty. And I have to say, the animals were pretty subdued. Most of them dived out of sight when she passed. I can't think why."

"No, nor can I." Vimes murmured, crossing his fingers behind his back. "But you've hit on something there, Carrot. Let's get a couple of these carts loaded up and start 'em off. Get a clacks to the Palace advising them, and asking if we can use the spare cages. I can't see either Vetinari or The Wild Woman of the Jungle complaining about that."

Carrot went off to supervise the loading and jolly the carters into action. Vimes sighed, and listened to a sudden explosion of ape voices in the near distance, as if there were a loud argument going on. In among a cacophony of half-familiar _whoop-a-whoop-awhoop-aWhoop! _noises, he thought he could hear quieter, more patient, but stern, _Oook!'s. _

He shook his head. Sybil had been musing about following in her grandfather's footsteps, and having a long holiday in Howondaland, if only to view the family history Sir Joshua had left behind, and the battlefields he'd fought at. Sam, who couldn't face a five-week sea voyage and at least five weeks in a hot uncomfortable foreign country whose politics he wasn't at home with , had so far been able to talk her out of it. _Right now_, he thought, _I'm getting all the Howondaland I need to see, without even leaving town. Lions, rhinos, Zulu war-song in the distance – and that had been _**eerie**_ – chattering monkeys in the trees, and the Great White Huntress, laying down the law in that peculiar accent of hers. What do those people have against the letter "a", anyway? It's always seemed a useful and inoffensive vowel to me._

He took sentinel alongside Constable Bluejohn and looked down the path into the park. In the distance, he saw the Librarian knuckling his patient way over to the lakeside, the stony mass of Detritus keeping station a short distance behind him. The Librarian appeared to be carrying a lot less bananas than he'd gone in with. Vimes remembered the crescendo of ape-voices, and speculated on where the bananas had gone, and to what purpose. He turned in a different direction. Through the patches of trees obscuring his line of vision, he caught glimpses of Ridcully's party facing down some large cow-like animals. _Buffalo of some sort?_ _And wasn't that Hancock? _He'd been sent in with a follow-up squad and told, like the other Watchmen, to load and carry cages as directed by the Assassins, to get them back to a gate and then go in again, and to take no un-necessary risks. _And what was the idiot doing? Oh, no…. _he watched, and winced. Then turned.

"Igor, Miss Igor. Stand by. Your first casualty is on the way."

"Oh, _good_. An Assassin or a Watchman?"

"A Watchman, unfortunately."

Igorina looked glum. Igor smiled at her.

"I'd love you to help, though."

_________________________________

The first few baboons went down in a flurry of tranquiliser darts. Most of the attacking simians hung back, seeing their fellows dropping, but several, braver than the rest, larger, almost man-sized, pressed their assault. Next to her, Emmanuelle heard, and viscerally felt, a low long threatening growl emanating from Angua's throat: it scared the apes off from attacking where she was. _Mes dieux, that werewolf growl is frightening me! _

Emmanuelle tapped Angua on the shoulder. "They are scared of you, _cherie_. Go round the circle. Spread the fear around!"

Angua nodded, and walked round behind the Watchmen and Assassins, aiming the growl at the attacking animals, who fell back from wherever she was.

And then the baboon, almost as tall as she was and with foetid stinking breath from a mouth full of fangs, leapt for her face. Emmanuelle had no false modesty: she knew she was beautiful. She had spent a life shamelessly playing her beauty for advantage, and at one point had nearly joined the Seamstresses' Guild. Her greatest fear was damage to her face, a wound or accident that would forever mar her looks. In fact, this was how Chrysophrase had snared her and assured himself of her services: he had demonstrated the potency of the strong acid used by engravers, by making her watch the torture of a troll who had failed to display the appropriate degree of _respect._ She had seen what acid could do to troll-hide, and her imagination had completed the argument for her.

And here, it was a screaming animal, with huge fanged jaws and breath smelling worse than Foul Ole Ron, leaping for her _face_…

Without conscious thought, her sword leapt up in a glittering arc of polished gunmetal-black, moving straight from its scabbard into the simian's body, piercing it front to back in a fraction of a second. The shorter poignard in her left hand completed the argument, and the scream died in the animal's throat as its head flew from its body. The watchmen standing to her right were deluged in a stream of blood that barely sprinkled Emmanuelle, as she freed her sword and dirk for the next onslaught.

As she descended from the quiet place of the trained swordfighter and conscious thought resumed, she heard screaming from further down the line. The baboon onslaught retreated as the surviving and living animals retreated outside weapon range and faded back into the cover of the wood.

Emmanuelle raced to the side of the fallen figure in black, and suppressed a gasp. Heidi van Kruger and the watchwoman Jolson were kneeling at the side of Catherine Perry- Bowen, who was moaning incoherently and bubbling blood. Another dead baboon laid nearby, riddled with crossbow bolts.

Jolson looked at her and shook her head, silently. Emmanuelle forced herself to look into the ruin of the girl's face, and her own worst fear surfaced again.

"She's bleeding freely, medem. Not good, but et least it is flushing the wounds clean of eny filth the claws end teeth put in there."

Heidi held up a tranquiliser dart, and her eyes made an unspoken question. Emmanuelle realised. _Anaesthesia._

"_Oui_. " she said. "_Plus certainement oui!_."

Heidi nodded, and inserted the point of the dart into a vein on the girl's arm. Assisted by field medicine, the girl's breathing became slower and more regular and her struggling ceased.

"We can apply field dressings and do what we can here." Jolson said. "But she needs an Igor immediately."

"She will be blind for life. Not even en Igor cen repair eyes destroyed so completely. She will elso be disfigured." Heidi said, sadly.

"Oh, I don't know, though." Angua and Jolson mused together.

"Let's get her out of here!"

__________________________------

The Librarian had set out, full of purpose and energy, following the sound and the unmistakeable family smell of fellow apes. The two full hands of banana swung gently at his back as he knuckled along in the direction of the noise. He moved swiftly and cautiously, as he could also smell lions. He had no fear of them: he had the strength of an orang-utan combined with what he'd, uniquely, been able to select as worth keeping from having once been human. He'd fought and knocked out lions while visiting Roundworld**(1)**: his attitude here was "bring 'em on!"

But he could now see his immediate goal. The park bandstand had been colonised by a tribe of black apes, mostly less than half his height, who like him had what by human standards were comically exaggeratedly long arms and bandy legs. They were variably fighting, singing, foraging for food, freeing each other of fleas and bugs, and in one or two cases doing something else beginning with "f".

But as the Librarian approached, all activity ceased and he became the focus of attention. From behind him, he heard running feet, a suddenly curtailed growl, and a dull thump. _Detritus being discreet, _he thought, and shook his head. He risked a glimpse backward, and saw the troll holding an unconscious lion up by the tail, wondering what to do with it.

"Ook ook?" he requested. Detritus nodded, and stepped to the rear.

The Librarian took a hand of bananas, and laid it in the ground.

"OOOOK!" he opened, loudly. _(May I have your attention, please? Thank you.")_

A villainous looking chimpanzee, the largest and fiercest of the bunch, knuckled forward and bared its teeth at him. The Librarian did not flinch.

"Whoop-a-whoop-a-whoop- a WHOOP!" it exclaimed. The Librarian focused, and made the necessary adjustments of language and comprehension. The alpha male was challenging him, he knew, and had just said _Big Ugly with the red hair! Leave now or we kill you!_

"Ook ook ooka-OOK!" the Librarian replied. _(Calm down and listen! What I have to say is important! Have a civilised friendly banana. You must be hungry!")_

"Whoop whoop whoo-OOOH whoop!" _(Why take only one, when I can drive you away and take them all?"_

The Librarian sighed as the alpha chimp rushed at him. He placed one proprietorial foot on the bunch and steeled himself.

The alpha chimp's eyes crossed with surprise as he belatedly realised an orang-utan can throw a punch like a steel rail. He was stopped in his tracks, stood frozen for a second, then fell over unconscious.

_Right, now I have your whole and undivided attention. We must talk. _

The Librarian's attention was diverted by one of the smallest chimps, which cautiously scuttled forward and sat just out of reach with a look of infant pleading in its eyes. There are very few things more appealing than a baby chimp. And care for the very young is hardwired in all great apes and crosses species.

_Please, mister?Please?"_

The librarian separated out a banana and, with great care and slowness, unpeeled it. He leant slowly forward and offered it to the infant chimp, who took it with care and then took a bite.

The chimpanzees relaxed collectively, as if a barrier had been crossed. An older female came forwards, gave the child a motherly clip round the ear, and asked it _What do you say to the nice…ape…, then? _

_T'nks, mist'r! _the child shyly said, through a mouthful of banana. Following its lead, other juvenile chimps shuffled forward to receive a banana each. This act of banana diplomacy was working. After the children, the mothers, and then the more suspicious adult males, came forward for bananas, which the Librarian dispensed with kind firmness.

_First they caught us. In pits and nets. Then they stuffed us into cages and we were in the dark in that bloody boat for ages, pitching and rocking. First decent banana we've had for months!"_ said a talkative medium-ranking male.

The Librarian nodded, sympathetically.

"_This is the biggest human colony in the world"_ he said. "_I've lived here for all my life and I'm known and respected by them. Take it from me, they're stupid, with a few exceptions, but they're not, on the whole, cruel or evil. Now you're here, they'll have to find you somewhere to live. But they won't let you go free. I have contacts among the alpha humans and pack leaders. I'll try to get the best deal I can for you."_

"_Don't suppose you could manage a cup of tea, could you? I'm parched, me. I could kill for a decent cuppa!"__**(2)**_

"_Oh, pay no attention to him, Mr Orang-Utan. He was in acting before they released him back into the wild. He picked up a few human tastes!" _This was from the mother of the first baby chimp who had approached the Librarian for a banana. Well fed, the baby was now holding on to the Librarian's chest with all four limbs, and had fallen peaceably asleep sucking its big toe.

The Librarian gently cuddled the baby who was seeing him as foster-father, and said _In my experience, the brighter humans are the ones with red hair. _He looked down at himself and said

_It sort of follows on, really. There's an alpha male, stands this tall, wears armour, called {pointy-vegetable-that-grows-in-ground}. He's bright, for a human, and quite decent. And there's a woman, she's from Howondaland, come to think of it, she's got red hair and I can actually have a conversation with her. Dresses like this, and carries a whip…"_

"_Her? _**She**_'s here?" _

The chimps whooped in apprehension. Some of the more fearful ones hugged each other.

"_Miss Smith-Rhodes?"_

"_We'd better give ourselves up peaceably!" _

One chimp held out a foot in indignation.

"_She actually put a tag on me! An actual bleedin' tag, right? Like I was some sort of bloody criminal! All we was doin' was turning over a fruit plantation near Piemburg! You gotta eat, right? Then she comes along with her tags and her tranquiliser darts and before we know it, right, we'd all woken up with a bleedin' headache at the other end of Natal!"_

"_She won't use the darts if you give yourselves up peaceably. I'll have a word with her, I'll say you've met her before back home and you know her reputation. She's firm, but she loves animals and she will be very fair with you. She will make sure you get a good place to call your own. But now I can see you've got a lot to discuss, so I'll leave you the rest of these bananas." _

The Librarian stood up and gently passed the sleeping infant back to its mother. He picked up the second, untouched, hand of bananas again.

"_When he wakes up, tell him I'm happy for him to carry on being your pack leader. Perhaps save him a banana or two? When you're ready to talk, send a delegation to the humans at the park gates over there. There are more bananas there."_

"_Will we see you again?" _asked the mother chimp.

"_I hope so! But now, I've got other apes to see."_

"_Oh, the big slow clumsy ones. They're over there, by the water."_

The Librarian waved a goodbye to his new friends, and knuckled off.

"_He's nice, isn't he?" _the mother chimp said to her child.

"_Y's. Gimme 'nana, mummy!"_

"_Educated."_said another mother chimp._ "Not like {Brute-Force-And-Ignorance} over there!" _She indicated the knocked-out alpha male with disdain.

____________________________________---

From several hundred feet up, Johanna watched the scene unfold on the ground with great interest.

"It looks as though he's talking to them, Johanna. And they're listening. The bananas help, of course." Ponder said.

"I've met him before" Johanna said. "He wes very helpful when we needed edvice on growing benenas and plantains in the hothouses at the AMU. So if he is persuading the chimpanzees to give themselves up quietly end without fuss, we must see the Watchmen et the gete know this! But first, Ponder, take me to madame Deux-Épées, please? So I cen be sure her essignment is going eccording to plen."

Ponder turned the broomstick in a low descending bank. Then they saw, and he put maximum speed on, coming in to land with Johanna clinging on tightly. Again, the rarely used parts of his hindbrain were singing _glory halleluiah _in exultation at the sudden unexpected stimulus of an attractive woman who was content to press herself that close to him. He shivered slightly as she gave him a spontaneous friendly hug before leaping off the broomstick to confer with Emmanuelle and Angua.

Johanna looked down at the two dead baboons, and said "It cannot be helped. You did whet you hed to," before turning her attention to the injured student.

"Ponder," she said, "There ere Igors et the commend post. Could you transport this poor girl by air and get her there the sooner?"

"Tie her to me, in front. Is it just her face that's injured? I think I can steer the broom and hold her upright… there. I can get her to the Igors inside a minute. "

Johanna stepped forward, and impulsively kissed him on the cheek. He coloured red. She carefully hugged him where she could.

"Safe journey, Ponder. End swift!"

Emmanuelle smiled slightly to herself and stored a mental note for use later. _This could be a source of harmless amusement later, perhaps. And also some little nudges to ensure she sees more of the young wizard. I'm glad for Johanna that I saw that little interaction there. Mes Dieux, she's taken her own sweet time about some things!_

Ponder waved, and took off with all the speed consistent with a comfortable journey for a wounded passenger. He set off, low and straight over the lake and trees.

_______________________________

_More to come! Just a bit tired right now, but be patient..._

* * *

**(1)** See _**the Science of Discworld**_ series, where the Librarian wins over proto-humans looking not unlike himself by preparing barbecued lion steaks, on the Mrs Beeton "_first catch your lion and then invent fire to cook it on_" principle.

**(2) **For non-British readers: the phenomena of the Chimpanzees' Tea Party, in which chimps dressed as humans would pour cups of tea for each other and ape human manners. was a common sight in British zoos until more enlightened animal management practices banned it as being demeaning to the chimps. The PG Tips tea company picked up on this British zoological quirk, and for thirty years used tea-drinking chimps in its TV advertising to shift the product.


	7. Whoops and Phalanges

_**The Urban Safari c7**_

"Well, _that_ was a job well done!" Ridcully said with satisfaction, as he assisted the Watchmen and Assassins in loading a new cage with doped lions. He looked up, and frowned.

"I say, that man!" he called to Special Constable Andy Hancock.

"What the devil is that contraption?"

"It's a _bolas_, sir!" Andy called back, smartly. "It's used on the Toledan pampas to bring down running animals."

"I see. How does it work?"

"You swing the cord just _so_, sir, and the weights on the ends fly out.."

He demonstrated, semi-eptly. There was an angry cry from Special Constable Piggle, who only just dodged out of the way of the flying lead weights.

"The theory is that the weights wrap the cords around a running animal's legs, and it gets tangled up and brings itself down."

"That's the _theory_, is it. You ain't tried it out for real, yet?" Ridcully said, doubtfully.

"It works for the Toledans, sir. When I heard the job involved trapping escaped animals, I thought it'd be just the thing to bring along and try out!"

"Well, you know best, I suppose." Ridcully sighed, just ahead of Miss N'Golate, who said "I wouldn't. I really wouldn't."

Then one of the large ruminant buffalos, its eyes attracted by the motion, lumbered closer to see what was going on in a suddenly lion-free field. Ridcully dived for cover as its lumber became a charge, straight at Hancock, who held his ground, whirling the bolas around his head. The rest of the Assassins and Watchmen dived out of the way as the bull pounded closer and closer.

Then Hancock let the bolas go.

To everyone's surprise, it worked perfectly.

The weighted cords wrapped themselves several times around the running animal's front hooves. It let out a bellowing affronted moo of surprise, and stumbled to the ground.

Unfortunately, Hancock was still holding the other end of the cords. The creature's huge horned head swept down and up to the right, catching Hancock between the horns, and swinging him up into the air, depositing him in a muddled unmoving heap on the turf. As it tried to reach him and gore him, a flurry of anaesthetic darts hit it, but appeared to have no effect on the creature's thick leather hide.

"Oh, hell!" Miss N'Golate cursed. "Of ell the stupid…"

She drew a dagger, then methodically opened a phial of the drug they were using to tip the darts. She poured it liberally over the blade.

"This hed better work!" she said, and leapt for the bull, stabbing its flank just hard enough to pierce the hide. It mooed and reared, and she leapt back, dropping her dagger. But the bull blinked, and very slowly, succumbed to sleep.

"We'd better get that damn fool to the rear. By the look of it, a couple of Igors have shown up. Good men, they always know when they're needed!" Ridcully decided. "I'd better give 'em a warnin' signal!" He raised his hand, and spoke a syllable or two…

______________________________-----

Igor and Igorina had set up a temporary field hospital in the back of a cart at the park gates. They awaited their first patients with eager anticipation, knowing that Miss Smith-Rhodes on the one hand, and Andy Hancock on the other, were almost certain to oblige them.

"Do you need a hand?" a deep voice inquired. "I heard there were Howondalandian animals on the loose, and I thought an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt."

It was the Quite Reverend Clement N'Effibl, the well-liked chaplain to the Assassins' Guild, a Zulu who was affectionately known to the students as "Black Mass". Igorina welcomed him warmly.

"Stick around, padre. I hear there's a casualty on the way!"

______________________________---

As Ponder Stibbons swept down to the park gates, steadying the unconscious girl Assassin and feeling his arms aching, he spotted the second stretcher-party on the ground. He reflexively ducked as he saw Ridcully throwing up an arm, and steered away slightly from the red fireball that shot up into the sky like a distress flare. But he was through, and on his way down…

Hmm, that must be the Igor medical station, there are two of them outside that covered wagon with the registration number painted on the roof…_MAS 4077 H. _Ponder reflected on the mind's ability to absorb trivia even in serious situations. And wasn't that Vimes there, looking angrier than normal and haranguing…

________________________________----

"What the hell are you dressed like that for, Nobby?"

The newly arrived Corporal Nobbs sidled on the spot, in what on somebody else might have been a rather fetching taffeta dress with puffed sleeves. He reached under his bonnet to retrieve a dog-end from behind his ear.

"Just come from undercover duties, sir. Acting as decoy for Lance-Constable von Humpeding."

Vimes took a deep breath.

"Nobby, the general intention was for _Sally_ to be the decoy and for _you_ to move in and arrest anyone trying to steal her bag."

"We discussed it, sir. We both thought it worked better this way."

"And where _is_ Sally right now?"

"Somewhere in there, sir." Nobby indicated the park.

Vimes was about to say more, but an exploding scarlet fireball, high in the sky, suddenly illuminated the scene… they looked up.

"Incoming cathualty, sir!" Igor shouted. "Aerial cas-evac, one case!"

"That was hawk-eyed!" Igorina complimented him, as the broomstick spiralled down.

"You've noticed? Only partially, though!"

The two Igors and the Chaplain ran to retrieve the injured girl from Ponder. For some reason all three ducked low on approaching the broomstick, as if expecting something to hit them at about neck-height. The illusion was so complete that even Ponder briefly looked up. Nothing there. He shrugged, but tasted magic, briefly.

"Bad facial injuries. Large monkey bite. Her eyes are…" Ponder couldn't complete the sentence.

The Igors nodded and carried the girl to their makeshift hospital.

Clement patted Ponder on the shoulder. At this moment, Ridcully's stretcher party arrived with the unconscious Hancock. Ridcully stopped dead at the sight of Nobby, dragged up and made-up, albeit inexpertly. .

"What's this, Sam? Fella tryin' to work his ticket on the grounds of mental instability?"

Vimes shook his head. "I doubt it, Mustrum. That's how we all got in."

"I get this catalogue." Nobby explained. "Mail-order, see. Spares embarrassing scenes."

"I'm sure it does." Ridcully said. Then he turned to Hancock.

"Sorry, Sam, I'm afraid he got a bit, well, _mashed_…"

"Yes. I saw it. When he wakes up I'm having a word. That was positively bloody _sucidal_! "

"Well, at least it knocked him out cold, so it was painless." observed Ridcully.

Igorina came out to quickly check over the new casualty.

"_The sword of time will pierce our skins.  
It doesn't hurt when it begins.  
But as it works its way on in,  
The pain grows stronger ...watch it grin, but..."_

She looked up.

"Sorry. Old Igor song. Don't know what came over me there."

In answer to Vimes' unspoken query, she said

"Concussion. Dislocated arm and thigh. Some broken ribs. We'll keep him sedated, but he can safely wait until we've dealt with the more serious case."

"How is she?" Ponder Stibbons asked, anxiety showing from behind his little round glasses. "I need to tell Johanna and the other one something."

" You can say Igor's stabilised her condition, cleaned the wounds, removed tissue damaged beyond repair, and she's about to get a blood transfusion. And… _The other one_?" Igorina said, grinning slightly. "That's Madame Deux-Épées. Some of the braver pupils call her "Hotlips", although it would take a brave student to say it to her face."

Ponder paused. "Johanna doesn't have a nickname, does she? Just asking."

Igorina's eyes narrowed slightly. "First-name terms _already_, I see? Just assure her that very shortly, _I_ will be doing the cosmetic stitching on Miss Perry-Bowen's facial wounds. Some things you just _cannot _entrust to male Igors. And with regard to further operations which will involve a degree of bioartificing, we need to speak to a parent or guardian who can give permission on her behalf. Her housemistress will do. That's Hotlips, by the way. Bring her here, if you can!"

Ponder leapt for the broomstick again. He paused, and asked Vimes "Any messages, sir?"

Vimes quickly began briefing him, and then reflected.

"On second thoughts…" and leapt onto the pillion.

_____________________________________--------------

Meanwhile, the Librarian was nearing the end of another trek across the park. Moving through the tall grass at the edge of the lake, he could both smell and now hear other apes. The smell was heavier and muskier than that of the chimps: the voices deeper and more sonorous, with a mournful quality.

"GROINK-grok-grok-gron-gron-WHOOP!"

He approached with care and caution, adjusting his comprehension patterns to adapt to the new apes.

_{Mummy, I'm hungry!"}_

_{Eat the nice grass, dear. Look, yum yum, there's lots of it!"}_

_{Don't want grass!"}_

_{Well, try out some of these leaves, then. Whatever you do, don't wake up Daddy. He's always grumpy if you wake him up from his nap!"}_

The Librarian knuckled forward, very carefully and deliberately. These were going to be a different sort of ape.

"Groink?"

"Ook-ook-a-ook"

The Librarian took a deep breath and stepped forwards.

The family group of gorillas looked at him in surprise. He counted six: two adult females, one juvenile male, and two infants. And, waking up, one very grumpy dominant silverback male.

_GROINNNNK? {Who the bloody Hell are you?}_

_Ook-ook-a-ook! {I'm a friend and fellow ape! I need to talk to you!}_

The Librarian realised the opposite case applied here. His superior size and strength had enabled him to beat up the alpha chimp, and, temporarily, take over the troop. Here, he realised he was in the presence of an even bigger and stronger ape than he was, one that would have no difficulty whatsoever in ripping his head off and spitting down the hole. He very carefully laid down his burden of bananas, stepped back, and adopted a submissive posture.

_I'm sure you're all hungry after your long journey? Just a little gift. While we eat, we can talk._

Six pairs of eyes swivelled to look at the bananas. The Librarian very carefully pulled one from the bunch, peeled it, and slowly, gently, offered it to the baby gorilla, making reassuring ook-ook noises. Again, a banana cemented inter-ape diplomacy, as the gorilla child tentatively took it, and then took a bite. Things very quickly became more relaxed, and the gorilla mother said

_Thank you, whoever you are. You wouldn't believe how fussy he is about his food! Getting him to eat properly is a nightmare!_

The massive silverback knuckled forwards, making what the Librarian thought were very Ridcully-like harrumphs. He stored this subversive notion up for leisurely replay later, and allowed the alpha gorilla to appropriate the bananas. Although he generously said

_Help yourself, friend. Sorry I was a bit abrupt. Just for a moment there I thought you were another bloody human naturalist. You couldn't move in the jungle for the buggers at one point. I don't know, you've just fed the kids, you've made the nest, you're settling down for an afternoon nap, then some bloody human turns up and tries to get into bed with you. And you're forced to try and be _nice_ to the sod, when all you want to do is get your head down and blow a few zeds!_

_You can't rip their heads off any more. _the female said, with a hint of regret. _We could do it in Grandfather's time, but do that today, and you get them coming after you with tranquiliser darts and nets._

_But they still trapped us, though._ said the other female._ And put us on that, what do you call it, boat thing on the big water. Talk about seasick! If God meant gorillas to go to sea, he'd have given us fins!_

The Librarian coughed, as near to delicately as an orang can manage. He settled the baby gorilla that had climbed into his lap and was making itself comfortable, and said

_Now that's what I want to talk to you about… _and repeated the presentation he'd given to the chimps.

The silverback nodded, unsurprised.

_So _she's_ here, is she? Doesn't surprise me. We've got an agreement with her. We don't tread on her toes, she won't come gunning for us. Clever girl, I thought. Got the brains to let us sleep in the afternoon and not disturb us. Well, Mr Orang-Utan from BhangBhangDuc, we're in your capable hands!_

_I was thinking your phalange could come with me down to the humans at the gates? _

_Ah, now that's where you're wrong, friend. It's a _**whoop**_ of gorillas. It's a _**phalange**_ of baboons. _

_Ah. No offence._

_None taken, friend. It's amazing how even the smartest people make that mistake. Oi, junior! What are you up to over there?_

"_What are these things called, dad? They're yummy!_

The Librarian coughed again.

_They're daffodils. They're a sort of flowering bulb._

_Whatever they are, they're top scran!__1_**(1)**

The silverback belched, contentedly.

"_We'll just take our ease and eat a few more of these bananas, then we're all yours. By the way, there are bloody baboons over there. If ever a species deserved an antisocial behaviour order, it's those buggers. If you see one, thump it. And keep thumping it till the others get the message._

The Librarian sighed, cuddled the baby, and relaxed. The day was turning out just fine.

_____________________________-----_

Within two minutes. Ponder had ferried Vimes over to the group confronting the baboons in the wood. A command conference ensued and Vimes and Johanna brought each other up to date on what was happening.

"It is my belief, Commender, thet we hev captured the greater part of the enemels ellowed to roam in the perk. There are the baboons to deal with, here, end the bewilderbeeste et the Hubwise end. I suspect the apes will give themselves up, efter the Librarien hes spoken to them of the evaileble options. Hev cages ready for the chimps and do not take your eyes off them for a second. They ere clever little rescels. The hippos in the lake we cen safely leave, for now, elthough pleasure boating should be suspended for a period. I believe we cen now eccount for all the lions and leopards – good work everyone."

Johanna paused.

"Sir Samuel, I understand thet when the College of Herelds burnt down, Lady Sybil accommodated pert of their menagerie et Remkin Menor. Does she hev eny spare cepecity et this moment, and would she be prepared to temporarily host some of the smaller and less demending creatures?"

"I imagine she'd be glad to help. But I do have a very curious little boy, and some of these animals are…"

Johanna smiled.

"I understand, Sir Samuel. The creatures I hev in mind are harmless and do not attack humans. The standard swemp dregon pen should be emple for them. I hev other plens for the other enimels."

As Vimes conferred with Johanna, Ponder sought out Emmanuelle and relayed Igorina's message about the wounded girl. She gave him a long appraising look, and Ponder realised that he was in the presence of the other sort of Assassin: the cool calculating killer. _But she does have very full sensual lips, though. No wonder they call her Hotlips. _said the prompt from his hindbrain, which was thoroughly enjoying its day out in the sunshine. There wasn't usually much call for its assistance in the rarefied academic world of the H.E.M.

"_Bien sûr." _She said, eventually. "I shall see to it." And then "I'm glad it's Igorina doing the stitching, Professor Stibbons. Igors are fantastic surgeons, the best, but they have the blind spot, they do not realise a female patient wishes for as few scars as possible afterwards. Igorina understands such foibles. Her stitching is _formidable_! Invisible!"

Johanna felt her heart fall. _He's met Emmanuelle. That's it, then. No competition. Men fall for her. She's an enchantress. He'll offer to fly her back to the park gates. _She felt an uncharacteristic pang of jealousy.

Then Emmanuelle said "Johanna, with most of the job done, I think we should start winding down here. I propose that I should take two-thirds of our students back across country to the park gates. They will be needed to help at the Palace menagerie and the AMU. If Catherine's condition is stable, there is no hurry for me to return there with all swiftness. I can confer with Igor concerning..her injuries. You, in the meantime, retain Professor Stibbons as your pilot to move you quickly as is necessary." _And it gives more time for the _centime _to drop for both of you. Mes dieux, academic people can be so stupid in a specialised sort of way! _

"Good. Please cerry on." Johanna found herself saying. "Ponder, I wish to investigate how the other group are getting on with the bewildebeeste."

"Hop aboard!" he invited her. Ponder felt strangely confident and happy in his world, all of a sudden. He wondered how long it would last.

* * *

Not complete, I know, but I'm off on holiday for a week and probably won't be able to get near a PC. So this will have to do till I'm back!

* * *

1 **(1) **Fans of 1980's British comedy will recognise the references instantly, including the veiled one to "David Bloody Attenborough". . For those who don't, You-Tube on Mel Smith, Rowan Atkinson, _**Not the Nine O'Clock News**_, and the _**Gerald the Gorilla**_ sketch.

Before this sketch aired on British TV around 1981, there hadn't been a universally accepted collective noun for a group of baboons. "Phalange" was invented for the show because it felt right. And such is the power of humour and viral comunication, even in a pre-Internet age, that this comic sketch launched the word on the world...


	8. Wrapping up

_**The Urban Safari c8**_

Ponder and Johanna, from a thousand feet up, saw the convoy of large carts lumbering into the Park through the main gate and heading in the direction of the bewildebeeste herd. Miss N'Golate's party, with Ridcully in attendance, was spread out to cover their flank and rear against unaccounted feral cats. As they spiralled lower, they observed a man dancing in the path of the carts and trying to stop them, shouting incoherently and pointing a trembling arm in the direction of the divots sent up by the heavy horses, and the wheel-ruts the heavy carts were gouging in the turf. Even from this height they could make out thwarted near-hysteric rage, and noted that he had gone puce with fury. A broad-shouldered stocky man walking alongside the lead cart, apparently smoking a pipe, took the raging one by the dshoulder, steering him away from the hooves of one of the most massive horses Johanna had ever seen. At a signal from the calm man, two Watchmen physically lifted the enraged man off his feet and ran him back towards the gate.

"Now whet's heppening here?" she mused out loud, as the broomstick circled down, landing a respectful distance away from the huge closed carts, each of which was drawn by a team of four of the massive horses. The tweedy pipe-smoker strolled over to greet them.

"You'd be Miss Smith-Rhodes, the lady in charge?" he asked, affably. "I'm Dan Archer. Guild of Farmers. Over there on the lead wagon, that's my colleague, Walter Gabriel from the Guild of Drovers and Cattlemen." 1**(1)**

"'Ow-do, me old beauty!" Mr Gabriel acknowledged them.

"I didn't think Ankh-Morpork hed eny ferms!" Johanna remarked.

"A common misconception, Miss Smith-Rhodes." Mr Archer said, cheerfully. "Lord Vetinari's writ runs out for a reasonable way in all directions from the City and it covers a lot of farmland. At least as far as the accepted borders with Quirm and Pseudopolis. We're possibly what's left of the old Empire!"

She nodded.

"End you're here for?"

"Captain Carrot asked for our help. We'd just dropped off a load of Charolais bulls for the cattle auction, and he was lucky to find the wagons empty. He suggested we might be able to think of a way to round up your large cattle over there and get them out of the Park. Walter's got a few ideas about that, don't you worry!"

"But these are feral bovines." Johanna objected.

"_All_ cattle is feral." Walter Gabriel announced. "The ones we breed for milk and meat and leather have just had a lot more practice at living alongside of people and puts up with us, as we feeds 'em and keeps 'em safe from predators! They'll gore you if you shows 'em no respect, sure as one of these longhorns!"

"End these wagons?" she asked, fascinated. In size and scale, they reminded her of the _Boortrekkie _ wagons that her people had originally ridden out in, to colonise the Howondalandian interior. She'd been shown surviving examples in the Pratoria museum as a child, and had been told to_ remember_.

Dan Archer showed her. "Wheels eight foot in diameter, iron-shod, on very heavy-duty springs. The cargo bed can take three or four large cows or bulls. The structure is made of inch-thick oak planks so there's no way a panicked creature can kick its way out. There are open slats at eye-level for the animals to look out. These admit cool air and sunlight for reassurance. Each cattle transport is pulled by four Quirmian Punch horses."

"The horses is a hangover from the days when knights in armour rode to battle on them horses with curtains on.. They needed a horse that was big and tough and strong enough to carry the weight of all the armour, including its own. When no knight rode out in armour no more, we carried on breeding the heavy horses for all them jobs in farming where it needed a big strong beat, like pulling ploughs or operating grinding mills or pullin' heavy loads." 2**(2)**

As they spoke, other farmhands were lowering ramps and applying brakes. The tranquillised bull that Ridcully's party had knocked down, with the loss of Special Constable Hancock, was being prepared for winching into the back of one of the cattle-wagons.

Walter Gabriel nodded at the bull.

"Cows is cows, miss. You drags the bull into the back of one of the wagons, and they'll follow. Then when we've loaded the herd, we close up and we takes them to a field out in the country. They'll be there for when you needs them. Captain Carrot knows where to find us."

Johanna smiled.

"I cen see you hev things under control here. Thenk you. Ponder, cen we go to the gates now?"

_They could have walked to the main gate_, Ponder reflected, _but she still asked me to fly her. Not that I'm complaining. _

From above, they could see Emmanuelle's party making it overland to the command post, escorting two cages full of doped baboons. _There are still at least ten at large, _Johanna estimated. _But at least they're contained. _Johanna also noted movement by the lake: seven or eight apes of various sizes, most black, save one with red hair. This group was also moving, with ponderous purpose, towards the gate. She nodded: the Librarian had been successful, then. They came in to land to a massive commotion, caused by one man.

"Now, mr Flowerdew. Please be reasonable!" Commander Vimes said, exuding much-abused patience.

"You are wrecking my Park, Commander!" the barrel-chested little man in his late fifties said, from behind a fussy little moustache, his whole body radiating terminal indignation.

"If there was any other way, Mr Flowerdew, I'd have used it. But these are exceptional circumstances. Captain Carrot was absolutely right to have sent those carts in. Or do you want a herd of huge wild cows roaming around your park in perpetuity?"

"_Look at the mess they're making of my grass_!" Mr Robert Flowerdew nearly screamed. As the head park-keeper at Hide Park, he took a very great pride in the facility the City paid him to keep in good order. Perhaps too much pride, others whispered: Flowerdew was known to have bitten through his picker-uppy-spiked stick in sheer rage at the sight of a single piece of litter. He had frequently petitioned Vetinari for the re-introduction of birching for anyone ignoring the _Keep Off The Grass_ signs, and he was certainly no friend of incontinent dogs on _his_ premises. The sight of amateur gardeners taking clippings of his plants and flowers filled him with berserker rage, and even the City's premier youth gangs, such as the Shamlegger Street Rude Boys, still spoke with awe and fear of the time Flowerdew had caught them having an impromptu game of football on the bowling green, and had gone into a one-parkie-beserker-rage, scattering thugs, vandals, GBH-artists and graffiti-sprayers in every direction in terrified panic. 3**(3)**

Vimes regretted the lost opportunity to have sent Mr Flowerdew up against the lions, considering the City would have benefited in either outcome.

"And that's another thing, Commander! I don't tolerate _dogs_ crapping in _my_ park! What them bloody buffaloes have done don't bear thinking about!"

"My gardener says it's good for the roses, Mr Flowerdew?"

Johanna coughed to attract attention.

"We should perhaps consider Mr King's men to perform a necessary clear-up efter we are finished, Commender Vimes?"

Flowerdew and Vimes both looked at her.

"Herry King would pey for the dung these creatures hev left. Call it a donation to the Widows End Orphens' Fund?"

Vimes nodded. Flowerdew opened his mouth to rage again, something about _gnolls _coming into his park only over his cold dead body, and then Emmanuelle's party started to stream out through the gates. Johanna leapt to issue instructions and directions to them, with Vimes filling them in about where the first few batches of animals had been sent.

As a working party of student Assassins started on the walk to the Patrician's Palace, Emmanuelle fixed Flowerdew with the cold glare that could and often did silence a classroom.

"Over your dead body, you say, _mon vieux?_ I believe that can so easily be arranged. Luckily for you, you are speaking to the professionals!"

It takes a lot to silence a professionally aggrieved park-keeper, but an Assassin can always find something up her sleeve. Flowerdew subsided into silence.

Vimes moved over to Johanna.

"I'd be very interested to hear how you propose to get Harry King to pay us for clearing up the sh…dung." he said. "Isn't it usually the way that _we_ pay _him_ to send his lads round with buckets and shovels?"

Johanna smiled.

"Oh, he will, Commender, when I explain a few things to him. He will."

"Sir!" a Watchman called. Vimes turned his head. He looked to Johanna.

"Let them come." she said. No hindrance. They will be quiet end present no risk."

The Librarian and the family of gorillas were knuckling slowly along.

"End please ensure they hev more bananas and other soft fruit."

Ponder Stibbons stepped forward to watch the spectacle. He and Johanna unconsciously moved close to each other.

"In a way, it's quite spectacular, isn't it?" he said.

She nodded. "Gorillas hev elweys been my favourites of the Great Apes" she said. Almost unconsciously, her hand found Ponder's and clasped it. "A quiet and usually gentle enimel thet lives in small, well-ordered, family groups. They give us no trouble end we ere careful to give none to them. Oh, no, whet is thet idiot _doing_…"

Senior Park-Keeper Flowerdew was leaping up and down in rage. In rage, people often say and do things they come to regret later. Senior Park-Keeper Flowerdew was no exception.

"Here!" he almost shrieked, pointing at Junior. "That bloody _monkey_'s eating my bloody _daffodils_! They cost good money, they did, and took days to plant all the beds down the lakeside! And all that to end up as monkey-food?"

Flowedew realised he was in the middle of a widening empty circle as people around him edged away. He also realised eight pairs of simian eyes were looking in his direction. _Unblinking_ and _unfriendly_ simian eyes.

The dominant silverback said _Groink—oink-oink-WhooOOOP! {"well, that just about tears it! I can forgive them the whoop-phalange bit, as that's technical vocabulary, but _this_?"}_

The Librarian, still holding the baby gorilla, made the best bow he could to the silverback.

"Ooook!" he said, making a generous arm-gesture towards the silverback and then to Flowerdew. _{"Be my guest!"}_

"Oh, DEAR!" Vimes said, as the silverback, full of purpose and an affronted need to chastise, knuckled forward.

"IGOR! You're needed!" Vimes called.

"Nobody uses the m-word to the Librarian any more" Ponder remarked to an amused Johanna. "But you'd think they'd stop and realise orangs aren't the only apes!"

"The Great Apes all shere meny cherecter traits." Johanna replied. "If we hed gibbons here, they would elso react bedly to being celled m… celled by the m-word".

She realised she was still holding his hand, but neither of them was in a hurry to let go.

"Perheps.. just perhaps… you might like to call round and see the Enimel Menegement Unit et some point? I realise zoology is a soft science, so-celled, and it doesn't really compare to your High Energy Megic Building…"

"But you run your own scientific facility. That takes some doing! I bet you have the same problems with Lord Downey that I have with Ridcully!"

"Hah! Getting my finance out of the Derk Council…" she paused. An idea glimmered. "And I get the Master dropping by unannounced, with ideas he doesn't understand, or requests to drop everything I'm working on to setisfy some verdammte whim of his…"

"Dealing with students and trying to make sure they don't break too much expensive equipment…"

"Reining in the pupils when they get over-confident or plain clumsy…"

"Recapturing escaped demons because the student hasn't properly drawn the magical octagram…"

"Hah! I had escaped scorpions to recepture efter my students failed to secure a tenk!"

"And the Bursar's insane…well, he takes gentle handling…"

"Heving to cultivate tree frogs, so Mr Winvoe the Guild Treasurer cen hev his dried frog pills…"

Johanna and Ponder looked into each other's eyes and both smiled, then laughed.

"You'd be _right_ at home in the H.E.M." Ponder said, reflectively. "Why not, you know, call by? I'd love to show you round!"

Johanna rested her head against his shoulder.

"Ponder, I would like thet very much!"

Ponder Stibbons sighed, happily. This was almost completely unfamiliar ground to him, but he was learning how to navigate it. He also had a growing sense that there were some aspects of life that Johanna had just been too busy to add to her curriculum vitae.

Then she was the schoolteacher again.

"Excuse me" she said, and stepped forward to speak to the silverback, who was holding a mercifully unconscious Mr Flowerdew up by one ankle while beating his own chest with the other huge ape fist.

"Grooink?" she said, hopefully. The huge gorilla calmed down, and gently laid down the body of the park-keeper. As Igor ran forward to perform basic first-aid, the silverback extended an open hand to her. She took it, and smiled.

"I think we understend each other, _Mr Father Of His Whoop." _she said. "I will do my best to see you and your whoop re-housed in a place you will be comfortable in. You know me. You hev my word!"

The silverback inclined his head in acknowledgement, and then returned to his family.

"I always thought it was a phalange of gorillas." Ponder said, thoughtfully. Johanna sighed.

"It's a _**whoop**_, Professor. A **whoop** of gorillas and a **phalange** of baboons!"

But she smiled as she said it, and took his hand again.

The gorillas were soon moving off, in the back of an open cart, to take temporary residence in a spare enclosure at the Patrician's Menagerie.

_____________________________--

Emmanuelle, meanwhile, was in conference with the Igors over Catherine Perry-Bowen.

"We couldn't save her eyes. They were damaged beyond repair" Igorina said, quietly.

Emmanuelle nodded. She'd expected to hear as much. Now she had the hard job of breaking the news to the family and arranging for the poor blind child to be transferred to a school more appropriate for her new needs. She couldn't, of course, remain at the Assassins' School.

"There is another way." Igor said. "Bio-artificing."

"You can _replace_ eyes?"

"He breeds them" said Igorina. She went to the back of the hospital trailer and called "Constable Williams?"

The Watchman stepped forwards. Emmanuelle looked at his face. One eye was blue, the other… brown?

"He lost an eye while on Watch service." Igor said, smoothly. "I replaced it with a bioartificed organ."

Emmanuelle asked Williams a few questions, discovering that he'd had his original right eye gouged out in a fight4**(4)** and Igor had been very keen to try out his new idea to see if it had worked. Assuring herself that it was as good as the real thing, she had given consent to replacement of the eyes, provided, and I wish you to be completely clear on this, mr Igor, they are both of the same colour, hmmm?

.Igor had agreed instantly, but had asked "One last thing, Madame? With a view to improving my stock, may I take a tissue sample from you?"

Emmanuelle was on her guard.

"May I ask, for what reason?"

"You depend on your eyes for your work. Your vision has to be excellent in all respects. I would dearly like to be able to bio-replicate the eyes of a superbly co-ordinated athlete and fighting swordswoman. To use only the very best! All I need is a very small tissue sample…"

"From my EYES?" she nearly shrieked.

"All I need to is to take a swab from the surface of your cornea. This will provide enough living cells, perfectly painlessly, for the bio-replication process to begin. In eight weeks, a perfect clone of your eyes will exist, for implantation into a lucky recipient…"

All eyes moved to Catherine.

"And in the meantime, she has a temporary set? Then the permanent eyes she receives are a copy of mine?"

Despite herself, Emmmanuelle felt flattered.

"And who knows, her swordswoman skills are bound to improve. _Eh bien_, take your samples!"

_______________________________-

The troop of chimpanzees came in to surrender, filing quietly and meekly past Johanna, Vimes and Carrot. Vimes noted that they were trying not to catch her eye and were seeking to get as far away from her as possible. He wondered why. Then she squealed with delight and cried out

"Mr Boggis!"

Vimes looked around him, but the Head Thief was still conspicuous by his absence.

"No, down here, Commender. This fellow here!"

She beckoned a chimp forward with her finger. It inched forwards with extreme reluctance. First it placed its hands over its eyes, trying to blot out the frightening sight and make it not be there. Then it placed its hands over its ears, trying to make the sound of the feared voice not be there. Finally it placed its hands over its mouth, so as not to incriminate itself.

"Show leg!" Johanna commanded it. The chimp extended a leg with extreme reluctance. Johanna took it in a firm hand, and showed Vimes the tag.

"I met this fellow et home in Howondaland lest summer" she said. "You should take one of your criminal iconogrephs of this rescel, Sir Samuel. I believe we heve here the criminal mastermind responsible for a spate of raids on orcherds and fruit farms eround Piemberg. I wes celled upon to help capture the chimpanzees responsible, and this particular ringleader I tagged and named Mr Boggis, efter the head of the Thieves' Guild. Wetch this one. He is clever end unscrupulous!"

Vimes grinned, appreciatively. There was a certain Boggis-like shiftiness to the chimp, now he came to look. And a certain facial similarity.

"Commander Vimes? Miss Smith-Rhodes? Please be so good as to stand just so, to either side of the most iconogenic Mister Boggis, if you please…"

There was a massive actinic-white flash.

"Thank you both so much!"

Vimes sighed. Otto Chriek had made it here, then, and was taking pictures for the Times. _Well, better make sure he gets some good ones, and the Times gets our version of the story first…_

"Sir?"

Carrot made to pass Vimes a steaming mug of tea.

"Ah, than…"

Vimes had a glimpse of the mug lifted out of his almost-grasp by a hairy arm. His gaze swivelled round to where a chimp was draining it with every sign of appreciation. Meanwhile, Otto Chriek had taken another picture, with a cry of appreciation.

"I'm sorry, Commender." Johanna sighed. "I should have warned you that sometimes, you get a chimpanzee who has been brought up as a pet, hes edopted human mennerisms, end released beck into the wild when it gets too large end unpredictable. When the species gets a taste for tea, it will kill for a cup. Literally. I should consider thet mug to be lost to you now."

Vimes sighed.

"If I light a cigar, will I regret it? Do any of them smoke?"

"They are en intelligent species, Commender!"

1 **(1) **Yes, I know. I'm plundering names again from characters in the long-running BBC rural soap opera, _**The Archers. **_

2 **(2) **Really true. When archery, artillery and handguns made the heavy-armoured knight obsolete no later than 1550, the horse studs that served them lived on, and adapted the animals to agriculture and other heavy duties such as pulling barges. The _percheron_ of the 15th century knight is today the Suffolk Punch, a recognised breed of horse and a mainstay of British agriculture and heavy haulage for several hundred years. Even after mechanisation, the heavy horses are still there.

3 **(3) **A staple of British humour over the years has been the officious, petty-Hitler, attitude of the municipal park-keeper, in his polished boots, black uniform, and impeccable military-style peaked cap. Parks are an open green space for pleasure and recreation, usually provided by the civic authority. Who then hire Mr Flowerdew to police it and enforce the by-laws. Ah, the Parkie….

4 **(4) **This was true, so far as it went. Williams had drilled a peep-hole down through the roof of the womens' shower-room from the floor above. However, rather than Angua or Sally, he'd surprised the immensely strong Constable Precious Jolson, who had screamed and punched upwards at the eye staring at her. Parts of the shattered floorboards had pierced his eye, and Igor had replaced it with a home-grown. Williams had also been fined by Vimes for "damage to Watch property", in that Precious would not have smashed the floor into his face if she'd not been voyeured upon. A lady large in all departments, Precious had then been the butt of jokes like "she'll have your eye out for looking at those", or "you'll go blind for looking"


	9. The very end in Hide Park

_**The Urban Safari c9**_

Johanna took the last of her group of animal-hunters back into the Park to tidy up a few loose ends. She deployed a group to watch over the wood where the last baboons had gone to ground, then took the last few Assassins and Watchmen down to the picnic area where, she realised with a guilty start, two hapless Clowns were still stuck up a tree.

Vimes and his Watchmen supervised the rescue of the two Fools' Guild members, while Johanna compared notes with Ponder and Ridcully.

"Whet bothers me is thet there might be one, maybe two, more lions on the loose." she said. "I cen't trust this idiot Dibbler's record-keeping, end every bit of veldt-sense I've got is telling me there's still et least one out there"

"Typical Dibbler. He shows different numbers to different people." Ridcully agreed.

While one of the rescued clowns was content to let himself be wrapped in blankets and steered towards a hot mug of tea, the other staggered over to Johanna.

"Miss! Miss! There is another lioness. They're the ones without the manes? In the bushes over there. We could see her from the tree!"

"Thenk you." She said, kindly. Adding "People! One lest tesk! How many tranquiliser darts hev we left between us?"

The Assassins made a quick count. Precisely five darts remained, with none of the drug available for tipping more. Johanna nodded. They'd have to make every shot count, that was all. And if necessary…

"Mr Ridcully, we're running out of darts. I hate to say this, but if we fail to bring down this lest enimel, I'm relying on you to make a clean humane kill. I know you're a good enough hunter!"

"I won't fail you, m'dear." He assured her. "Been waitin' for this all day, if truth be told!"

He readied his crossbow.

Meanwhile, Vimes relaxed and reached for his cigar packet. As he was lighting a smoke, the lioness suddenly leapt out of the bushes. Straight at him, and running fast enough for two of the precious darts to miss completely.

Vimes was transfixed. He knew he had to get out of the way, but his legs weren't moving anything like fast enough, and his eyes were fixated on the sight of a charging lioness, whose jaws were opening… the roar and the stink of feral breath hit him like a hammer.

And then something cracked, ear-splittingly loudly, in the air in front of him. The lioness, mere feet away and rearing up to strike, incredibly cringed back. The ear-splitting crack happened again. The lioness retreated, snarling back with each crack… of the red-haired girl's whip. Stepping forwards, Johanna kept snapping her whip to left and right of the creature, whose ears flattened as it sought to get away from the ear-torturing noise. Vimes looked again. A second lioness emerged from bushes on the other side. Just as Johanna forced the first one to climb awkwardly onto one of the picnic tables, where it sat looking dazed and deafened, she turned her attention to the second, forcing it towards an unoccupied table , sparing an occasional whiplash to keep the first subdued, and steering the second up onto a tabletop.

"Bring the cage forward!" she snapped, without taking her eyes off the two lionesses.

As the cage was moved as near to the lions as it could possibly go, she whipped them off the tables and, with whip-cracks to alternate sides, guided them to run into the cage. The golem constable Dorfl shut the door and padlocked it, and she relaxed.

Vimes felt his legs turning to jelly. She came over to him, recoiling the whip.

"My _ouma _told me the noise of the whip does things to their ears that they cannot stand. You cen make them do your bidding just by exerting command and crecking the whip!"

"Sounds just like teaching." Vimes said, weakly. "It must have given you a funny feeling the first time you tried that?"

She smiled.

"Yes, Commender Vimes. It does!"

Vimes made a decision. He reached into his waist-pouch and brought out an unassigned Watch badge.

"Make that _Mister_ Vimes" he said ."And, Gods help me and should you choose to accept it, you are now Special Constable Smith-Rhodes of the Watch."

She took the badge and saluted. "The first Essessin to become a Wetch member. I em honoured. Mister Vimes." she said.

"You've earned it. And Sybil would do a better job than that bloody animal of killing me, if I hadn't." he said, curtly.

Johanna turned, smiling, and saw the clown Bonzo regarding her with wide appraising eyes.

"Yes?" she said, inquisitively, half-expecting more praise.

"Well… er… nothing realy, miss. That was some trick with the lions, miss!"

"Thenk you."

"I was just trying to visualise what you'd look like in a leotard. And spangly tights. With that whip…."

Johanna's eyes narrowed. Her right hand rested on her whip.

The other clown, sensing danger, hastily cut in with

"Please, miss! He don't mean nothing kinky. It's just that he's been doing History of the Circus. He thinks the circus needs new acts to renew it and freshen it up, and your _lion-taming_ thing hasn't been done before!"

His friend nodded frantically.

"It'd pull the punters in if it was done by a young lady, _but not you!._ Hence the leotard and the spanglies! Maybe a Ringmaster's top hat and frock coat to give her some gravitarse, distinguish her from the tightrope walkers! It's all about glamour, see, and a woman with a whip in complete control! The crfowds'll love it!"

"Hmmm…" Johanna thought, stroking her jaw.

"Look, come and esk for me et the Essessins' Guild, we're just next door, and we cen work something out. But the copyright on the ect is MINE, elright?"

"Yes, miss!" chorused the two clowns.

________________________------

As night fell, the last handful of free baboons clung, scared, tired, hungry and thirsty, to the reassuring greenery of the tree canopy. They had seen the rest of their phalange alternately doped, caged or killed outright, and had terrible memories of the huge dog-like creature, something more than just a mere animal, that had effortlessly killed the pack leader, whose body still remained torn and cold on the forest floor below.

And the humans were still out there, watching and waiting. There was no way out, and they knew it.

And now a new terror was descending from the skies.

It took the form of a flock of chittering black bird-like somethings, which sent a cloud of psychic terror out in front of them. In normal circumstances, a bat caught by a baboon would just be a brief crunchy snack, something to play with, maybe pull the wings off before killing it. But these bats were something other, something almost outside the collective experience of the phalange. The oldest surviving animal had a folk-memory, inherited from a grandsire, that some of the less stupid and more advanced humans could be shape-changers who could assume animal form at will. She dimly recalled, as a cub, being terrified at night by stories of the were-leopards, humans belonging to a tribal society who could assume leopard form at will, combining the power of animals with the malice of humans. Now the stories took new force. Were there were-humans here in this strange foreign land, capable of adopting animal form?

And then the bats attacked, pressing that cloud of bowel-emptying fear down on the baboons. In a panic, the youngest creature broke cover and leapt for the ground, followed by others.

And the growling of the terrible dog-like creature met them at ground level, forcing, directing, their panicked run across the grass to the cages.

The terrible cages that had contained them during the terrible weeks of the sea-voyage. The baboons had sworn they would never be caged again. But a certainty was growing that _inside _the cage was the only safe place. Herded by the sweeping, chittering, flotilla of bats and the running passes of the large killer dog, the baboons fought to be safe and inside.

The alpha female watched in horror as the dog-like creature writhed and changed shape and became a white-skinned human female with long yellow-white hair.

_So there are shape-shifters among the humans!_

The yellow-haired female bounded forward, heard a second human voice say _They're all in the cage, Angua. I can't hear any heartbeats outside it!, _then closed the cage door and swiftly snapped a padlock closed.

Where the bats had been stood a second, slighter, human female, this one with black hair. She paused, and said "tcchh!", then extended her arm for the last couple of bats to land on. They somehow shimmered, and we re-absorbed into her body.

Other human females, black-clad, ran forward with bundles of the extra optional skins that humans wore over their bare flesh. The two naked females dressed quickly, and were soon black-clad like the rest.

_Let's call it a day now. I'll call up the golems to carry the cage. _

_What about… you know, the three we had to kill?_

_Miss Smith-Rhodes was fairly definite about those. They're to go on covered stretchers and be delivered to Mr Behemya's workshop. Just off Cunning Artificers. He knows what's needed, she said. _

_Oh, Chaim Behemya? The…_

_Well, in the state they're in, it's not as if Doughnut Jimmy could make a difference. I think I can see her point. _

And the last active animal-hunters left the Park.

_____________________________-----

The next morning, the aftermath began.


	10. Longterm strategies

_**The Urban Safari c10 - Epilogues**_

The difference between night and day in Ankh-Morpork is a matter of subjective opinion. The city never stops, for one thing. Sleep is a matter of making time and space, especially in those houses with three times more people than bedspace.

However, all across the Multiverse, some trades preparing for the working day are generally accepted harbingers of morning, dawn and daylight.

The appearance of postmen on the street, for instance, is universally acknowledged as the first herald of the day. Bakers and milkmen are not far behind. Out in the country, farmers also keep early hours. But one occupational group generally beats all these to it, even if only by a few minutes.

One such is beginning its working day on the Downs. These are small men, not much taller than Dwarfs and weighing in much more lightly for professional reasons. A small knot of them are looking, in some consternation, at new arrivals in the stables.

"You _are_ seeing what I'm seeing, aren't you?" Lister Divott asked, nudging a fellow jockey in the ribs. Lister had heard all that alarmist nonsense the medical profession kept putting out, that years of self-induced malnutrition combined with frequent concussion caused by falling off horses at high speed could cause brain damage, hallucinations, and eventual insanity. While temperamentally inclined to dismiss all that nanny state stuff,**(1) **_just occasionally_ Lister wondered if there might not be a grain of truth in it. **(2)**

For there were four or five new horses in the stable that hadn't been there yesterday. Three were exotically patterned in vertical black and white stripes and had short-cropped stubbly black manes. Two more just about fitted into their stables. Long orange necks patterned in brown blotches stretched out over the half-doors and somewhere above, heads were contentedly crunching the leaves on the trees.

Lister Divott sighed and said "Go and get Mr Folsom. He'll know what all this is about."

Then he saw the black envelope pinned to the door with a black arrow. It had white writing down the side. He squinted and read it with difficulty.

_The Assassins' Guild. Where style matters! _

___________________________-------

Emmanuelle-Marie Lapoignard les Deux-Épées returned to her rooms at the Guild, feeling weary, dirty, sweaty and dog tired. She had had to complete a mandatory Form CC12a for Downey, reporting serious injuries received by a School pupil, detailing time, place, circumstances, actions taken, extent of wounds, nature of assailant (if any), and her estimation of the possibility that the pupil might not be fit to return to the School, thus entailing a grievous loss of fees revenue from the parents. **(3)**

_Ah well, I am excused lessons for the morning. Mr Bradlifudd is covering my classes._

She stripped off her boots and top clothes, and fell onto her bed into a deep and instant sleep. Like a cat, she could fall asleep to order and wake up in a second.

She awoke to streaming daylight and a rumbling, knocking, sound at the door, punctuated with muffled swearing.

"Who is there?" she demanded.

"Mr Stippler and Mr Maroon, madam. There's been a delivery for you."

"_Et bien" _she said, reaching for a dressing-gown. The two Guild porters were there with a large, white-sheet-shrouded _something_.

"Where do you want it, ma'am?"

Emmanuelle considered.

"Bring it just inside the doorway. _Merci bien_. That will be all." She reinforced the dismissal with a Teacher's Look, as she suspected Maroon and Stippler weren't above surreptitious ogling of semi-dressed female teachers. Not that she begrudged them, but Standards had to be maintained.

She sent them off with a modest tip – _well, noblesse oblige_ - and considered the gift. What the devilment was it? It stood nearly as tall as she did. She pulled away the white shroud, and screamed.

________________________________---

"Bur-SAAAAR!" bellowed Ridcully, as he discovered the two large white-shrouded Somethings in his office.

"Any idea what these are and where they came from?"

The Bursar, who was on his median cycle and more-or-less in tune with the mundane world, sighed.

"I believe they were delivered earlier this morning, while you were on your run. They are very definitely for you, sir. The note from the young lady made that very emphatically clear."

The Bursar leant forward until his face was a few inches away from the shroud.

"I wonder what it is?"

Ridcully, suspicious that this was some sort of disguised bid for the Arch-chancellorship, very carefully pulled back the white shroud. And laughed. Meanwhile, the Bursar found himself inches away from a gaping baboon jaw, lips drawn back in permanent rage, teeth and tusks poised to rend and kill.

Then he read the note from Johanna.

_I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to kill anything yesterday. I greatly appreciate the help and assistance you offered. I hope, even though these weren't your kills, you accept a little memento of our safari in Hide Park. I'd rather the dead animals live on like this than be buried._

_With thanks_

_Johanna Smith-Rhodes._

"Hmm" said Ridcully, studying the baboons from all angles.

"From Chaim Bechamy's all-night taxidermy, I note. Good choice, that girl. And a thoughtful gift!"

He looked again at a gibbering Bursar. "Dried frog pills in the usual pocket, old chap? Give me a second…"

_____________________________________----

Emmanuelle sat back heavily on her bed, pulse racing. It had taken her a couple of seconds to realise the thrice-damned monkey was in fact stone-dead and stuffed.

_This was your kill, Emmie, so you get first refusal. Let me know if you don't want it, and I'll find a corner for it in a classroom somewhere. _

_Love_

_Johanna._

_My friend truly has a wicked mind_, she thought, fumbling for her cheroots and a light.

________________________________----

Ponder Stibbons took a deep breath, and spiralled the broomstick down into the yard of the Assassins' Guild, hoping he was expected. Sure enough, two black-clad Assassins converged on him, right hands raised in the universal "Halt!" signal.

"What's your business here?"

"I'm expected." Ponder said, mildly. "Miss Smith-Rhodes asked me to collect her to help her with a few jobs." Inwardly, he was quaking. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed her running down a flight of steps.

"I em here." she said, running up behind them. "Gentlemen, this is my pilot. I expect him to be treated as a guest and to remain undemeged. Em I understood?"

She hopped on the pillion. "First stop, Ponder, the Golem Trust. Go!"

Ponder fired the fastest possible getaway, as near to vertical as he could manage. Johanna whooped.

"So what are we doing?"

"Getting things moving. I hev to see the Petricien et eleven. I went to hev an idea ready to show him. And to Lord Downey. We hev four hours!"

____________________________________-----

"OK" Adorah Belle Dearheart said, from behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. "You want fifty golems immediately. To collect building supplies, then to march out to fields a couple of miles outside the city, to commence laying out your… _zoological gardens_… so that by the end of today, you have basic but secure large enclosures to turn these animals of yours out into."

"They just need to be spacious and secure, to begin with," Johanna said. "This is lend thet Dibbler had earmarked for building his safari park, so he can herdly complain if I use it for the same purpose. Only, I intend to do it _properly_. "

"I don't doubt you." Adorah Belle said, recognizing an equally firm jaw and determined eye looking back at her from across the desk. "Moist told me you did a hell of a good job clearing out the mailboxes the other week. In fact, I get the impression animals matter as much to you as golems do to me. But let me ask the most basic question, sister. Who's paying? The fact you have spoken the name "Dibbler" does _not_ fill me with confidence, I have to say!"

Johanna reached into her tunic and brought out a bundle of papers. She peeled one off.

"Yesterday, Lord Downey gave me the ebsolute freedom of the Guild's resources to resolve a problem on behelf of the city. I esked Mr Winvoe to edvence me sufficient finance to use as I needed yesterday efternoon to hire carts, drovers, equipment, end so on.

"You must hev heard the expression "blenk cheque? Well, this is one. It's a Guild bond for a thousend dollars. Eny benk will eccept it. Let me know when I've spent a thousend dollars worth of golem!"

Adorah Belle nodded.

"Right now I can spare you thirty-five golems. I'll try to roust out more for you. I'll get Shtetl and Kvitz to put the word out."

The two women shook hands, and Johanna refused the offer of a cigarette.

In the street, Ponder asked "Are you going to get in trouble for this? I mean, spending the Guild's money… are you authorised?"

"I wes yesterday!" she said. "Downey wes keen to see the Guild get one pest Vimes end the Wetch, for us to look good at their expense, so I got everything I esked for. . End es far es the job is concerned, to my mind it is only helf-finished, Ponder. We rescued and receptured those enimels.. But they still need a permenent home. Which is why I went to follow through Dibbler's original idea and create a wildlife perk. This needs _money_. Fortunetely, I still hev ten thousand dollars worth of Guild bonds in my tunic, end I intend to spend them wisely in completing the job."

She smiled, happily.

" Now, Ponder, fly me to Gregson's builders' supply yard, and then to one of the Dwerf foundries. When my Golems arrive at Dibbler's fields, I went them to hev the tools and equipment they need."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Johanna was tireless on the ground, directing her Golem labour force in driving poles into the ground, marking enclosures, and turning the flat empty fields into a series of wired-and-fenced animal runs. Mr Gregson of the Builders' Guild had sent a site manager along and a group of human labourers were hard at work building gates, while relays of carts pulled by golems were bringing fresh materials out all the time.

Ponder could actually see the logic and the scope of her vision as shapes emerged from the ground. Of course a chimpanzee enclosure had to be closed and sealed on all sides, including above, and it had to provide space in three dimensions for a tree-climbing ape. And of course it had to encompass trees. Therefore the chain-link metal fencing had to go above as well as along all sides. And some way down, to prevent them digging a way out.

Similarly, the temperamental and often violent baboons also needed a large secure and completely closed enclosure designed along similar lines, only she was insistent on boulders and other massive rocks being piled up for them to climb on, as something resembling their natural habitat as closely as possible.

"Ten to eleven, Ponder. The Petricien's Pelece, I think!"

Nodding, he waited for her to settle on the pillion. During the short ride, she marshalled her arguments.

* * *

There will be more, concerning how Johanna talks the City into setting up its first public zoo. - just timed out tonight. Watch this space for a chapter extention!

* * *

** (1) **The giant green spiders also assured Lister that it was all rubbish.

**(2) **British jockey Sir Lester Piggott became a millionaire at his trade. While anyone studying his slurred speech, faraway demeanour, and sluggish reactions in later life would not be in any doubt what this had cost him, Piggott steadfastly maintained that his sport was safer than most, falling off a horse didn't hurt that much provided you didn't fall under the hooves of the horses behind it, and that he'd _always_ been careful to maintain a sensible diet. Anyone studying his eighty-pound frame did not doubt this.

**(3) **The CC12b was the form that had to be filled in by the teacher if a pupil was actually _killed_ during training, and was even longer and more detailed.


	11. The City Zoo is born

_**The Urban Safari c11**_

Lady Sybil Ramkin knocked in the last nail, humming cheerfully as she went about her work. Behind her, two of the Ramkin family groundsmen stood, trying to conceal their sense of offended propriety at Her Ladyship doing what should have been their job. They both had animal cages to hand.

"Right, chaps, you can release them now" she commanded, rising up from her hassock. She replaced the hammer into her tool-belt. Purity, the nanny, took a firmer grip of Young Sam as he excitedly leant forward to see the funny new animals. Sybil smiled. She had been assured that they were harmless, and in any case their description had quite obligingly been right at the very front of the encyclopaedia of wildlife.

She smiled, contentedly, as the aardvarks scampered into the enclosure she had prepared for them, right in the most ant infested corner of the grounds.

"Tuck in, you men!" she commanded them. "There's plenty for everybody!"

After five weeks on short-rations of the Dibbler kind, the aardvarks obliged her by tucking in with a passion. This was truly Anteater Heaven, the place where good aardvarks went after they died…

Sybil Ramkin nodded, then went to check on the welfare of the warthogs that were temporarily housed in a redundant dragon-pen. She made a mental note to talk Sam into inviting that clever Howondalandian girl around for dinner one night. _Assassin she may be, but she is also my kind of young gel. A passion for animals and the ability to get things done. She'll love the dragons!_

___________________________-----

The clever young Howondalandian gel moved through the Palace with ease and confidence. A Palace Guard sporting a badly blacked eye tried to shrink into the shelter of a pillar and look inconspicuous as she passed. Ponder mooched along beside her, fully expecting the outstretched palm any second which says "Come No Further!"

From a distance, a chorus of roaring, honking, grunting and growling soared up from the direction of the menagerie. Ponder wondered about how the human inhabitants were going to put up with it, as it was really quite loud. His nose also caught a whiff of…

Rufus Drumknott, personal secretary to the Patrician, came to meet them as they approached the waiting-room for the Oblong Office.

"Miss Smith-Rhodes. Everyone's ready for you." He paused, and added: "His Lordship bade me come and find you personally to save any more communication breakdowns with the Palace Guard. He also suspected Professor Stibbons might be in attendance on you, and he is desirous that he be present in our discussion to speak for the University. There are certain academic issues which may require a University spokesman to express an opinion, you see."

"Why me?" asked Ponder.

Drumknott shrugged.

"Because you're here? Because you were deeply involved yesterday? For which, by the way, His Lordship is most pleased. While it's never wise to second-guess his thoughts or actions on any given situation, he may be in a mood to express gratitude."

Johanna caught the very fleeting suspicion of a _hint_ in the air.

"I understand thet with the recent necessery expension of the Civil Service, your pelece clerks ere running short of space to work in?"

Drumknott nodded, sadly. "Alas so, madam. The problem is one of space into which to expand. His Lordship knows my thoughts on the issue and is sympathetic, but even he cannot conjur a new wing to the Palace out of thin air."

Another loud chorus of roaring, honking, grunting and growling soared up from the direction of the menagerie. Drumknott winced.

"Speaking for myself, you understand, and for the Secretariat, I'm given to understand those animals are only being lodged here temporarily? The noise.. and the longer it goes on, the smell…"

She nodded, understandingly. "I hev quite a few ideas to present to his Lordship concerning the future disposition of the enimels. . You may perheps see a fringe benefit of use to yourself."

He smiled, and stepped forward. Johanna half-turned, smiled at Ponder in a way that made him tingle agreeably, and said

"Thenk you for being here for me, Ponder."

Then she impulsively stepped forward and kissed him on the lips, quickly.

In the distance, a voice said

"Your zoological advisor, sir. Miss Smith-Rhodes of the Guild of Assassins. And Professor Stibbons, representing Unseen University."

She took his arm and stepped forwards with him.

"Capital! We're all here!" Vetinari said, agreeably. He added, with some concern,

"Professor Stibbons, you look very red and out of breath. I trust you've not been exerting yourself unduly?"

"Nnnnghhh."

Johanna kicked him smartly on the ankle. He recovered quickly.

"No, sir. I'm honoured to be here!"

She looked around the room. A small gathering of civic dignitaries. Sam Vimes; Harry King, who rolled the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other ands regarded her with interest; a handcuffed and woebegone Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler; Lord Downey, who gave her a slightly puzzled but not unfriendly look; her uncle Pieter van der Graaf, the Howondalandian Ambassador; Adorah Belle Dearheart of the Golem Trust; and the grim and scary Doctor Whiteface of the Fools' Guild.

They took seats.

Vetinari steepled his fingers and smiled. Drumknott took up station behind him and to the right, pencil and paper poised.

"I'm sure we are all unanimous in expressing our unreserved thanks to Miss Smith-Rhodes for the sterling task she took on yesterday, in co-ordinating this city's resources in dealing so effectively with the massive escape of wild animals that took place in Hide Park. The recovery of all the animals was accomplished with only three human casualties, two of which I believe were self-inflicted, and the unfortunate, ah, _culling_, of three most dangerous feral apes. Most remarkably of all, Arch-chancellor Ridcully was deterred from firing even a single shot, and this in itself is perhaps worth the heartfelt thanks of the City!"

Vetinari paused, and added "The response provided by the City Watch is also noted, as is Sir Samuel's ability to set pride and position aside, in that he acknowledged overall control of the operation should reside with the person who best knew the problems we were dealing with. Thank you, Sir Samuel. And Professor Stibbons several times set aside his personal fears and provided invaluable aerial assistance to the operation. The actions of a brave young man."

Ponder reddened again, especially since Johanna was smiling at him. He really wanted the gloomy anonymity of the HEM and Ridcully bellowing at him, everything back to normal…_but then I'd never have met Johanna. _

"I feel, however, that it's only fair to advise Miss Smith-Rhodes that the Thieves' Guild Council have put in a _very_ strong official complaint."

Vetinari paused. The pause was filled by the stifled stuttering wheeze of somebody, or several somebodies, desperately suppressing a laugh. The Patrician held up a copy of the Times.

"I'm sure you've been too busy today to see this." he said, affably. "But the front page reads _Have Immigration Controls Failed? The Times has learnt that a new criminal mastermind has arrived from Howondaland._ This comment flanks an iconograph of Miss Smith-Rhodes and Commander Vimes, looking down on a large ape of the genus _Pan Troglodyctus, _to which, we learn, Miss Smith-Rhodes (29) once assigned the name "Mr Boggis" She is quoted as saying "Back home, I captured and tagged this chimpanzee as I know it to have led its troop in raids on orchards and fruit farms. Calling it "Mister Boggis" only seemed right and proper, as did calling the troop "The Thieves' Guild".

Stifled giggling was breaking out.

Vetinari turned to the inside pages.

"The mood of levity is even continued on the cartoon page. The main political cartoon shows Commander Vimes, supervising criminal iconographs being taken of a very shifty and criminal looking chimpanzee who is holding up a blackboard, upon which is chalked a criminal number and the name "Boggis" . In the background, a watchwoman looking vaguely alike to Sergeant Angua is talking to a huntress in safari dress, who looks not unlike Miss Smith-Rhodes, and they are agreeing that in terms of good looks and gentlemanly behaviour, the _new_ Mister Boggis is a hell of an improvement on the _old_ one."

Unrestrained laughter broke out. Even Vetinari smiled.

As silence resumed, Johanna (who had noticed Lord Downey had laughed louder and harder than most) took the floor and said, as demurely as she could manage

"I'm sorry Mr Boggis – thet is, the _human_ Mr Boggis – feels offended. Thet really wesn't my intention. I'm sorry he isn't here, or I would be sincerely asking him to eccept the possibility thet the comparison wes meant es a tribute end a compliment."

Vetinari raised an eyebrow.

"Sir, at the Essessins' Guild, we named our houses of study efter enimels which in their ways ere the essessins of the enimel world. The scorpion, the bleck widow spider, the viper, the cobra, and so on. These ere meant as tributes, to point our students et enimels they would do well to emulate end study. In _exectly_ the same way, the chimpanzee is the superb end outstending netural thief among the enimels. The chimp is a born thief. A gifted thief. It will steal anything thet cetches its eye, however well guarded. Yesterday, I saw one steal a mug of tea from the hends of a thirsty Watchman! This is truly the totem enimel of the Thief, and should be the enimel eny good Thief should study end wetch end learn from. But then, I cannot tell the Thieves' Guid whet it should do."

"Your point, made with eloquence, is noted, Miss Smith-Rhodes." Vetinari replied. "You may be sure I will communicate it to Mr Boggis, with the suggestion he accepts it as apology. But to move on. I note that there has been a lot of building work going on to the rimwards side of the city this morning. Quite a lot of golems marched out to the site owned by Mr Dibbler, upon which he proposed to establish his safari park which has been at the root of all this recent trouble. Large enclosures are being put up with speed – and nothing works faster than golems – which would seem ideally sized, if only by coincidence, to contain groups of the animals rescued and recaptured yesterday. Would you care to comment, Miss smith-Rhodes?"

Lord Downey coughed, delicately. She turned to him.

"The current estimated costs to the Guild of yesterday's operation – and I have to pass on the whole-hearted congratulations of the Dark Council for a task impeccably carried out – now stand at just over three thousand dollars. Not counting an additional ten thousand dollars in Guild bonds which you drew from Mr Winvoe yesterday. I'm sure every penny of that was well-spent and can be accounted for, but at this point, as Guild Master, I have to raise a hand and question the value of any further expenditure…"

Johanna nodded, seemingly submissively.

"Es a member of the Guild, my Lord, I cen only egree with you. Which is why I propose to spend the remaining ten thousend dollars with extreme care, end with every intention of providing a long-term result which meets _ell_ the criteria for cost-effectiveness end intelligent investment of the Guild's resources!"

Downey sat back, looking consternated.

Almost on cue, a barrage of animal noises rose up from the direction of the menagerie and a faint whiff of something stronger and more pungent than mere _farmyard_ wafted across the room. She smiled.

"Sir, merely _recepturing_ those enimels was only half the job done. Now we hev them all eccounted for, we must consider whet to do with them next. I'm sure Mr Drumknott and those who are permanently based here will by now egree thet the Pelece Menagerie is only, et best, an interim solution, end thet number of large enimels cannot remain here permanently?"

She saw Drumknott nodding fervently. Good.

"This is why I interpreted my remit from the Guild in the broadest possible sense, and made arrangements this morning to build the large secure enclosures on thet lend which Mr Dibbler had set eside for his safari park. Elthough the lend is Dibbler's, he cennot argue with it being used for the purpose he himself wished, no?"

All eyes looked at Dibbler, who nodded miserably.

"Like it or not, these enimels now belong to the City end the City must dispose of them. We hev a duty to look after them _responsibly_ end _humanely_. Which is why enimels requiring a large space to run in are going to get living space sufficient for their needs. Lord Downey, how would it look, from a public relations point of view, if the Guild took the time and trouble to rescue and recepture these enimels, only to let them die through neglect, through whet the public would perceive es a reluctance by a very rich Guild to commit the financial resources to complete the job? This would _not_ look good, especially in view of your own expressed wish thet we should be seen es public-minded good citizens and responsble members of the community".

She paused to let this sink in, and said:

"Sir, there are other espects of the situation to consider. It may well be politicelly advantageous for these enimels to be seen as a free gift from the government and people of Rimwards Howondaland, made in a spirit of goodwill and friendship to the people of Ankh-Morpork. When thet becomes known, and I'm _sure_ Onkle Pi…. that is, the Embessador… has press releases ready to give to the Times, and speeches to make to this effect, then the thought of _destroying_ them all es expensive and inconvenient would be seen es en insult to my people."

Johanna smiled first at her uncle, and then at Vetinari, to reinforce the point.

"And I know, from ettending Embassy receptions end being close to the Embessador, thet there is an issue with providing the eventual replacements for Roderick and Keith, who are elderly creatures who will not live for ever. I'm sure the Embessador would be glad to go to the lakeside in Hide Park, with the Times in attendance, and formally announce that we have come to the rescue and provided Ankh-Morpork with the hippopotami which will be the eventual replacements for Roderick and Keith as the City's totem enamels. Again these are given in a spirit of friendship and goodwill. Now, my Lord, I em not a politician nor em I a diplomat…"

"You seem to be doing alright so far." Vetinari observed.

"…but Ankh-Morpork may perheps wish to make an unforced reciprocel gesture, such es grenting Most Favoured Nation trade status, or perhaps relexing certain taxes and import controls. But Onkle Piet – I'm sorry, the Embessador – would know the finer details of such metters."

Vetinari smiled.

"The fine details may, as you say, be discussed with mijnheer van der Graaf."

"Oh, most certainly!" the ambassador agreed, feeling a deeper family pride.

"But to return to the question of the Zoological Gardens" Johanna said.

"I propose that ell the enimels recaptured yesterday be moved to purpose-built enclosures at the new site, as end when they become ready. In keeping with previous conversations with you concerning the future of the Pelece Menegerie, I also propose that the last enimels normally resident at the Menegerie elso be moved to the new Park. The buildings end structures of the Menegerie may then be dismantled end anything of use rebuilt in the Gardens. The edventage of this, my Lord, is thet the Menegerie site becomes available for redevelopment to suit the changing needs of the Pelece. Perheps to build an office extension to house the new Secretariats, for Defence, Public Health, Education end City Works. But thet is for yourself end Mr Drumknott to work out."

Vetinari nodded. Drumknott nodded even more emphatically. Another hint of _meta-farmyard_ wafted over all their noses.

"There would be certain advantages, yes. But who meets the costs of the Zoological Gardens?"

"Well, sir, I heve here ten thousand dollars of investment cepitel from the Guild of Essessins. I would elso look for private investors to provide other sums. The Guild would remain principal investor, end would hold a majority share, end es the fecility grows end metures, we would then hold a major interest in an unperelleled and unique research, teaching and scientific site. It would perheps need twenty thousand dollars in investment cepitel, but once established, it would be open to the public in a way in which the Menegerie currently isn't. Visitors, et maybe fifty pence per edult and twenty-five per child, would bring in a stream of income as they come to view the enimels. Other ideas, such as an insect house and a butterfly sanctuary, would ect es an extension of the very valuable work my colleague Mrs Bellamy is carrying out in the botanical facility et the Guild School. Her work in breeding rare plents is currently a significant revenue stream for the Guild, as Lord Downey is aware.

"I elso have a long-term project in preparation, which is to establish and observe a breeding colony of swemp dregons in their netural hebitet, es opposed to their being bred for show end es domestic pets. This could be done at the Zoo, end it is possible thet Lady Sybil Ramkin might be persuaded to come in as an advisor on thet project. In fect, Lady Sybil might be a great esset on the menegement trust of the Gardens?"

Sam Vimes smiled. "I'll put it to her. She'd bite your hand off, AND probably bring you the other ten grand a year you need to make this thing work!"

Johanna nodded.

"Over time, I see the current post-and-wire enclosures being replaced with purpose-designed hebitets. The Guild of Architects might enjoy the chellenge. And with a facility a couple of miles outside the City, thought should be given to issues such as providing refreshments. Hot end cold drinks. Food, light snecks. _Sausage-inna-bun, perhaps_. Souvenir shops, es the children visiting might like to take home a stuffed toy enimel or en informative booklet.. Ell, of course, subject to City sales tax. I would propose Mr Dibbler to ménage thet side of things, end as Head of Marketing and Catering, to have a seat on the Trust board. It's his idea and his land, efter ell!"

Dibbler smiled up at her. His look suggested that things weren't as bad as he'd thought.

"Thank you, miss" he said.

"Noblesse oblige" replied Johanna. "And you hev your strengths, mr Dibbler. I want to see round pegs in round holes here, es the seying goes!"

"Who does the work?" Adora Belle Dearheart inquired. "You know, feeds the animals, mucks them out, shovels the shit."

"This is where _you_ come in." Johanna said. "Enyone working with enimels knows the most dangerous time is if you hev to enter the cage, for whatever reason. Peopel hev to enter the cages regularly. To provide food and fresh bedding. To clean up and remove waste and soiled remnants. While I went my students et the Guild to hev a taste of this, we _cennot_ be there twenty-four and eight. Therefore the keepers would be a permanent steff composed of golems, if I can get them, end trolls if I cennot. A zookeeper who cannot be bitten or mauled or gored, end who does not mind the smell of shit! And I saw yesterday thet the golem Dorfl had _exectly_ the right combination of kindness and firmness with the enimels. I appreciate thet."

Harry King cleared his throat.

"And speaking of shit, miss, I heard that yesterday, you said I'd pay to take it away from you. By all accounts you were very confident about that. Now you Assassins are not overconfident, you get that beaten out of you at an early age! Care to enlighten me, miss? I know you're not wasting my time nor anyone else's!"

"Mr King!" she said. "Heve you not heard about gardening and farming in Howondaland? People who hev private gardens hev the usual problem of keeping enimels out, thet might otherwise dig things up, or eat their crops, or, like cats and dogs, be incontinent everywhere. People in the large towns end the cities will pey, real money, for lion and leopard dung to put in their gardens. The wey it works, is thet a small enimel comes elong thet might otherwise be a nuisance. It smells the lion dung on the breeze. To its mind, this tells it thet a lion is near. It runs eway end steys out of thet garden, rather than risk becoming lion dung itself, in the fullness of time. Do you see how it works, Mr King? It deters small pest enimels from entering. With clever marketing, whet you buy from me at fifty pence a bucket, you cen then sell for two dollars a bucket. There ere _many_ gardeners and ellotment owners in this city!"

Harry King smiled a long slow smile.

"I _knew_ you wouldn't be wasting my time, miss!"

Vetinari smiled.

"We seem to be in agreement and approval here. Professor Stibbons, could you advance what thre University's viewpoint is likely to be on this?"

Ponder cleared his throat.

"As you know, sir, the University has its own small animal-management projects, although nothing on the same scale that Miss Smith-Rhodes currently manages. We also offer degrees in _cryptozoology_ and _quasizoology_, which are related to, but subtly different from, the sort of tuition in mundane zoology that Miss Smith-Rhodes offers her students."

"Would you care to define the terms, Professor?"

"Neither degree is in my academic field, my Lord, but I understand _cryptozoology_ deals with the study of elusive and often magical animals which have been proven to exist in the world or for which good evidence exists, even though final proof is elusive. It would also employ the same scientific disciplines as conventional zoology, ie classification, study of lifestyles, ecology and habitat. As you know, the Univesity has evolved its own local ecosystem, in terms of 0.303" Bookworms, kick-stool crabs and Critters in the Library, Ridcully's Epithetical Insects, and so on right down to localised species of bedbugs, ants and rats, which have developed greater sentience and social organisation. Q_uasizoology_ deals with the study of imaginary animals - although in a magical environment these can suddenly become very real. Witness the business with the Noble Dragon some years ago. Or animals thought extinct on our world which may, if the circumstances are right, re-enter it, such as unicorns. I dealt with one such in Lancre several years ago."

Ponder, his mind honed by years of communicating with the Faculty, was finding it quite pleasant to talk to people whose intelligence was differently focused. It was quite refreshing.

"As for our current involvement with animals, we breed tree frogs for medical purposes. One of many jobs the Archchancellor saw fit to devolve on me is ensuring the Bursar receives the continuing medication that enables him to function. Miss Smith-Rhodes assures me she has to do much the same for the Assassins' Guild treasurer, who appears to have a simiar dysfunction to our Bursar. I'm fairly sure that I speak for the Archchancellor when I suggest that the University and the Guild could cut costs by combining our research and production of dried frog pills and similar generic medications. We're getting some interesting results, for instance, with experimental dried toad pills using _Bufo Calamita_ and _Bufo Alvarius_ as a base. But Archchancellor Ridcully is always keen to identify areas where costs can be cut, and as ourselves and the Assassins' Guild are conducting parellel work with the same end in mind, it would make very great sense to combine and pool our resources."

"That seems reasonable." Lord Downey said. "perhaps, Miss Smith-Rhodes, you could, er, liaise with Professor Stibbons and come up with a working plan?"

With an extremely straight face, he added

"This would mean the two of you working closely together, of course. But I'm _sure_ you could work out your own arrangements."

Johanna nodded at him and smiled enigmatically.

Ponder hurried on.

"The Archchancellor recently discovered the Department of Thaumaturgy maintains a colony of tigers somewhere in the University. We're assured they are safely contained, but the prevailing opinion in the Faculty is that the sooner we move our big cats on, the better. Besides, Mr Ridcully was _not_ happy when he saw the food bill."

_"Whet do you keep tigers for, Ponder....._Professor_?" Johanna asked. Ponder sighed.

"It's a hangover from the old superstitious dribbly-candle days of magic, I'm afraid." he said. "In the old days, certain bodily parts and fluids extracted from tigers were thought of as most important in spellcasting. Things have moved on, thank goodness, but as a result of a long-dead Archchancellor decreeing the University should keep tigers close to hand rather than have to send time-consuming expeditions out to find them, we still have a population on the strength. Oh, and we apparently also keep alligators for the same reason. The Archchancellor was _most_ insistent that they be moved."

He turned to Johanna.

"On behalf of the University, would the City Zoological Gardens accept the gift?"

"Only if you promise to tell me more ebout unicorns, Professor. Now one of _those _in the Zoo..."

"So the University wishes to divest itself of its residual animal-handling functions as soon as can decently be arranged." Vetinari summated. "This too can be accomodated."

________________________________------

The idea of a City Zoological Gardens was unanimously passed. Long-term planning was to be in the hands of a management trust headed jointly by a senior Assassin and, if she agreed, Lady Sybil Ramkin. Other seats would rotate around representatives of other Guilds, to be elected annually.

Day to day animal management was to be in the hands of the Assassins' Guild School's Department of Zoology, Botany and Nature Studies.

And Johanna now had her large animal management facility.

Oh, and speeches were made at the appointed times, Vetinari and the Ambassador were seen and photographed in formal handshakes, and new treaties and articles of agreement were signed between Ankh-Morpork and the Union of Rimwards Howondaland.

.


	12. Epilogues and endings

_**The Urban Safari - epilogues**_

I'm claiming this, at 19:04pm GMT on Saturday 4th October 2009, as being the_**very first Discworld Fanfic **_to incorporate material from Terry Pratchett's newly-released Discworld novel _**Unseen Academicals. **_In which we learn of various animal colonies within the university walls. Thank you! (Some might think this obsessive. This is true, up to a given value of "obsession". We are all, after all, devotees of the Master! I prefer to think of it as attention to detail. Thank you.)

_______________________________________________

There was one last scene to play out in the Oblong Office, the decision to establish, support and endow a City Zoo having been made, and finance secured to operate it.

"Just one last little matter before we close." Vetinari said. "Doctor Whiteface, you requested an opportunity to speak to Miss Smith-Rhodes?"

The grim Master of the Guild of Fools and Joculators half-turned in his seat to face her.

"Indeed, my Lord. I listened to the ideas she presented with great interest, and I must compliment Lord Downey on his ability to recruit such talented and capable people to his Guild. She does you great credit, my Lord".

Downey accepted the compliment with a nod.

Whiteface gave Johanna an appraising look. She tried to meet it with lack of concern, although something inside her wanted to shudder.

"Two of my more, ah, _talented_ and _enthusiastic_ young men asked to see me this morning. Both have a strong interest in traditional circus clowning, and both were present to witness you demonstrating your animal management skills in the Park yesterday. They firmly believe aspects of your animal management abilities could be presented as a _new_ and _novel _circus performance."

_He's like Mericet, _she thought_. The mere idea of anything new or novel is totally distasteful to him. It sends him running for cover compiling all the reasons why it can't be done in our lifetime. _

"I have to admit, they presented a very convincing case. Although I had to advise them that any novel idea has to pass through all the committee and discussion stages first, and could take up to fifty years to emerge at the trials stage. Clowning and the circus arts are not an area where you ad-lib or make it up as you go along, after all. We are the inheritors of a great tradition and as its custodians we must be careful and conserve, rather than innovate."

Doctor Whiteface paused for a moment to regard her. He asked:

"But tell me. Is it really possible to make large feral cats biddable, simply by threatening them with a whip?"

"I had a pretty good view from where I was standing" Sam Vimes cut in. "And yes, Doctor, it was bloody spectacular to watch."

"Ah yes. The demonstration saved the life of Commander Vimes. I do find it rather ironic, given the amount of time and energy the Guild has devoted to the alternative proposition over the years, that it should be an Assassin who actually _saves_ the life of Sir Samuel!." Vetinari remarked.

"Yes, miss!" Dibbler put in, having regained something of his usual bounce and self-confidence. "Given that I hear the fee for Sir Samuel is over a million dollars now, and I read you as a young lady who is _good _with numbers, I'm surprised you didn't just let the lions get on with it, and then put in for the fee afterwards! It would have paid for your zoo quite a few times over!"

Johanna smiled, noting Vimes passing a shooting look at Dibbler. The thought she might have earned the fee for the notoriously-hard-to-inhume Vimes, and her own statue in the Hall of Fame for pulling off the trickiest contract the Guild had ever accepted, had genuinely never occurred to her.

"Several reasons, gentlemen." She ticked them off on her fingers.

"One, I've expressed a wish to invite Lady Sybil onto the menagement of the Zoo enterprise, because she is a world authority on the welfare of one specific species of enimel. She hes great concern for enimel welfare, end her work with swemp dregons hes given her trensferreble skills which I know she cen epply to the welfare of ell enimels in general. How far do you think I would hev got if I hed inhumed her husbend? End I suspect I would _not_ hev enjoyed the million dollars for very long, before she came looking for me to discuss the metter.

Point two: to claim the fee, I would hev to fill out a report for the Derk Council. Whet do I write under "_weapon used to conclude the inhumation?_" The Guild could hev withheld the fee, arguing that "_a pride of lionesses_" is not an epproved technique, or thet I wes falsely taking the credit for coincidental circumstance. The Guild hes a procedure for dealing with members who make fraudulent claims, end I would not like to ectivate it!

"Point three: if Sir Samuel were inhumed by me, my colleague Alice Band would not be heppy with me. She would point out that she has been somewhat _inconvenienced_, end would now hev to find some _other_ way to cure her pupils of over-confidence. I hev _seen_ Alice when she gets engry. I would rather teckle a lioness bare-hended.

"Point four, I hev a certain emount of independent wealth. A little femily money, end some Guild fees I earned in the usual menner. Not a silly emount, but it enables me to live in some comfort. I really don't need eny more.

"Point five, the fee on Sir Samuel is still suspended. Which means the Guild prefers him to be elive rather than dead. In saving his life I was doing my duty es a good citizen, _end_ as a Guild member. Which means I could still claim a small percentage under current errengements, Lord Downey?"

Downey nodded.

"Five per cent of the contract price is the usual fee in these circumstances, Miss Smith-Rhodes" he agreed. "The Guild wishes Sir Samuel to remain alive but under suspended contract, there was a real and significant threat to his life, and a licenced Assassin acted as bodyguard. Therefore the bodyguard may receive a small success fee for her prompt actions."

"Pay it to the Zoo Trust. End finally, Sir Samuel made me a Special Constebel. In accordance with Lord Downey's written wish thet Guild members should seek to be good citizens in all regards, I eccepted it. Now as a Constebel in the Wetch, I understand it is the height of bed menners, end somewhat frowned upon, to seek to inhume my commending officer? Therefore if the contract on Sir Samuel ever becomes ective again, it cannot be me who seeks to complete it, for a lot of good reasons"

Johanna smiled around the room.

"Are you enswered, Mr Dibbler?" she asked, sweetly. "Good. Now onto you, Doctor Whiteface."

"Please explain how it works, Miss Smith-Rhodes. Although I have reservations about the _novel_ and the _innovative,_ the described performance is something I find very intriguing indeed!"

"There is no mystery, Doctor." she said. "It has been known for a long time in Howondaland, thet the creck of a whip close to the ears of a large feral cat is a noise they cannot endure end seek to escepe from. I do not believe it is cruel, and I am satisfied it causes no permanent demege to their ears, or else I would not do it. You simply creck the whip so thet they flee from the noise in the direction in which you wish them to go. It helps if you can radiate strength, confidence, end purpose of mind, so thet they are deterred from ettecking. But a skilled prectitioner, like my old _opie_, she could make a lion sit, or lie, or stend on its hindlegs, es she chose! I hev to edmit thet et first I misunderstood the clown Bonzo's intentions, but I cen see, on reflection, thet this could be made into a circus show. Especially in terms of leotards, spengly tights, high-heeled boots, end a woman confident enough in herself to wear them in public!"

Doctor Whiteface nodded.

"You may be of assistance to me." he said. "With Lord Downey's permission, of course. You may be aware that we have been following the educational revolution with some interest? The Thieves' School has always, seemingly, admitted girls. You yourself are a result of the Assassins' School going co-educational. You were one of the first four women admitted to the Guild as full licenced Assassins. Since then, you have brought the first class of female students from admission to graduation."

Doctor Whiteface expelled a sigh.

"Following consultation with Lord Vetinari, our Fools' School has been convinced that we should admit a limited number of girl pupils. We will therefore be admitting fifty young ladies this Autumn."

Doctor Whiteface sighed again, as if this was something not completely of his own choosing.

"Since we assimilated the Conjurors' Guild, on the grounds that this is a time-honoured conservative entertainment medium which has remained unchanged in its essentials for several hundred years, and therefore perfectly suited to take its place alongside foolery and clowning** (1), **we have had to accept that every conjuror worthy of the name requires his girl assistant. There is also an ongoing need for tightrope walkers and trapeze artists, as well as knife-throwers' assistants. Therefore the girl pupils at the Fools' School will ultimately be training for these, ah, _supporting _positions. The thought occurs to me that your new discipline of, ah, _lion-taming_, should be developed by us, after fast-tracking through the usual acceptance procedures…"

"How fest is fest, Doctor?" Johanna asked him.

"The Council of Mirth meets on Tuesday. I will instruct them that we _will_ be teaching lion-taming to the new girl pupils. By three o'clock on Tuesday, it will have been agreed. I would like to invite you to work with us, as a visiting lecturer, say once per week? It may be difficult for you, with all your other commitments…"

"Not et ell, Doctor. I will be paid?"

"And the copyright in the new skill rests with you, obviously. A percentage of revenue from each public performance…"

"Will be paid to the Zoo Trust. You will, efter ell, need to work with ectuel living enimels et some stage. The Zoo cen provide those, subject to hiring fees. End your girl pupils, plus, of course, any vocationally suitable males, cen be sent to me for enimel handling lessons, chergeble to the Guild School, es often es we both see fit? Thenk you, Doctor. I look forward to seeing this in writing."

____________________________________________-----

Ponder, somewhat stunned, left the meeting with Johanna.

"Another thing that slipped my mind in the meeting." he said. "Back in the days of Archchancellor Bewdsley, the University experimented with using trained marmosets as a message-carrying system between offices."

"End?" she said, interested.

"They, er, escaped. There's a large colony breeding in the pipework under the University. Perhaps we could arrange? You know? For you to bring some students round and trap them?" **(2)**

"Ponder, I would love that very much!" she said.

"Good." He said, with a deep happy sigh.

Lord Downey and Vetinari watched them leaving.

"It could come to something or it could come to nothing" Vetinari remarked. "I know Archchancellor Ridcully has got Professor Stibbons marked down as a talented young man who could become Archchancellor in his own right, within forty years."

"You can afford to be relaxed about people who could do your job in forty years' time" Downey replied. "It's the ones who threaten to become your immediate successor that you need to watch!"

"And if Stibbons has, shall we say, a personal advisor standing beside him, somebody who the Assassins' Guild has thoroughly trained in _realpolitik_ and who Lady T'malia has schooled to her own satisfaction in Political Expediency, then he may toughen up _very_ quickly."

"Indeed, my Lord." Downey said, frowning uncertainly.

"I had to suppress a smile when Miss Smith-Rhodes rather disingenuously said she was neither a politician nor a diplomat. That young lady's family ruled Howondaland for two hundred years and are still thought of with respect even today. And her family skills have been honed to a very razor edge by Lady T'Malia. Who I understand has generously given of her time and expertise in educating those lady Assassins the Guild chose to employ on its teaching staff. One of whom, I believe, now sits on the Dark Council itself."

Vetinari watched, with private satisfaction, as the barb bit home.

"Miss Sanderson-Reeves is an asset on the Council, my Lord. She represents the views of the new generation of Assassins whilst being of an age to understand the concerns and preoccupations of the old."

"And a possible successor to yourself as Guild Master. Or perhaps in this case, as Guild _Mistress._ And if not her, then in the fullness of time, Miss Band? Madame Deux-Épées? Or perhaps even Miss Smith-Rhodes. Or Mrs Stibbons, as she may then be. But as I said, it could come to something or it come to nothing."

"Indeed, my Lord"

Vetinari sipped his glass of distilled water, watching Downey pour another sherry from the decanter.

___________________________________________---

After breakfast in the Great Hall, Johanna Smith-Rhodes performed the routine administration of Raven House, assuring herself that none of its girls had absconded during the night, and none needed to be sent to Matron Igorina as sick. She conducted a routine disciplinary between two first year girls who had had a falling-out and been caught fighting, put the fear of the Gods into them both with a very stern telling-off, than softened to dealing with the needs of two eleven year-old girls, away from home at Big School for the first time. She listened to them, dispensed good advice, then dismissed them.

Young Maroon, the duty mail-boy, ran to her office with a copy of the Times and her share of the morning post. She thanked him, and read the Times over a coffee. They were still covering the animal escape in Hide Park with photos and stories there'd been no physical space for the previous day. An iconograph showed Sergeant Angua and Constable von Humpeding of the Watch in borrowed Assassin black, and the caption was "New Watch uniforms? Or just undercover work? Either way, dressed to knock them dead!"

Johanna nodded with appreciation – Sally really looked the part and was wearing the borrowed black with absolute assurance. Then again, so was Angua, although a tunic meant for a fourteen-year-old girl pupil looked a little _tight_ on her…Johanna speculated on what particular problems a vampire or a werewolf pupil would pose to her House Mistress, then shuddered at the thought of not Angua, but _Wolfgang_ von Überwald with a Guild education. _No wonder Vetinari absolutely bars our taking Undead pupils, _she thought.

An editorial praised the far-sighted and civic-minded proposal to enable a City Zoological Gardens, and Johanna noted, to her approval, that somebody (Vetinari?) had given the Times a set of plans and artists' impressions to look at. And copy into the paper. She studied them herself: evidently a bright architect had been consulted. But that wouldn't do for a chimpanzee house, too many ways the creatures could escape. Oh, and she was named as _a woman to whom the City owes deepest and most heart-felt thanks._ She shrugged: praise would be forgotten by tomorrow, but the Zoo was already growing.

She turned her attention to the post. A letter from the Times, asking if Sacharissa Cripslock could interview her for the _**Woman of the Moment**_ feature; a letter from home, from her mother, no doubt another litany of complaints about continued absence of son-in-law, her daughter's tardiness in doing anything about it that she could see, a warning that it will get worse after you turn thirty, and that she, Johanna's mother, would like to see grandchildren, ideally before she got too old and senile to appreciate being an _opie _and an _ouma._ Johanna put it to one side for attention later.

What's this… from Miss Estressa Partleigh, of the Campaign for Equal Heights. _Why am I not going to like this? _

It had come to Miss Partleigh's attention that she, Miss Smith-Rhodes, was only proposing to have chimpanzees of the species _Pan Troglodyctus_ in the new City Zoo. Was she not aware that there was such a thing as the Dwarf Chimpanzee, _Pan Bonobus, _and what sort of a message was it sending out that the dwarf chimpanzee was being excluded from the new Zoo? She, Miss Partleigh, therefore demanded that _three _dwarf bonobos should be included for every _two_ troglydyctus…

Johanna swore a spiky Howondolandian oath that was audible from Tump House, balled the letter up from the verdammte dumpkoft stupid woman, and threw it at the wall.

The last letter restored her smile: it was from the Council of the Thieves' Guild, acknowledging that Vetinari had personally passed on her comments at yesterday's meeting. In the light of which, the Council had debated the Zoo issue, thought it was a great idea, and in the interests of public relations and being seen as a mature and confident Guild that could join in with a good-natured joke at its expense… could we offer to sponsor the Chimpanzee House? Could volunteer students from the Thieves' Guild School have to do with its upkeep and maintainence?

She pencilled _yes, of course_ in the corner of the letter, and leant back. It was shaping up into a good morning.

* * *

Lord Vetinari looked down at the intercepted diplomatic communications on his desk, and smiled slightly. Like many other foreign ambassadors, Pieter van der Graaf was in the habit of putting private letters to his family into the diplomatic bag to save on postal costs, and as assurance that they would eventually arrive at their destination.

Vetinari saw nothing wrong with reading transcripts of private letters: if it was in the diplomatic bag, it was fair game according to the informal rules of diplomacy, and besides, a private letter could say so much more about the thoughts and preoccupations and concerns of the diplomatic representatives he had to negotiate with. This one was to the ambassador's sister, Mrs Agnetha Smith-Rhodes of Piemburg in the _Oranjesvreistaadt. _

_My dear Aggie. _

_I have to report that our very bright child, my niece and your oldest daughter, has proven herself as a true daughter of the Fatherland and was of great assistance in recent difficult circumstances. She is, and always has been, a young woman to be proud of._

_But first – and I know you, I have been your brother for fifty-five long years – you will want to know that Johanna shows long-desired signs of settling down. The young man is a graduate wizard and university Professor who we have been watching for some time, as a high-flyer who is tipped in his due time to become Arch-chancellor of the University. She appears quite taken with him and he with her. Now I realise this news will have you jumping for joy and turning cartwheels down the aisle of the Temple whilst shouting "Glory Halleluiah!", but it is truth, subject to certain strictures – I believe Arch-chancellor Ridcully may abolish the old Lore that says Wizards are not allowed to marry, as to a certain degree this is an irrelevance. What _**really**_ matters is that under no circumstances may they have more than seven children. (were they to marry, and we should not hope for this _too _soon). I realise that by Boor standards this is a small family, but this is a compromise Johanna may have to accept…_

Vetinari smiled again. He wondered about the children of a wizard and an Assassin. And that eight child, the one who might in turn be father…no, _parent _of an eighth child… Vetinari frowned. He'd better make sure Ridcully would insist there be _no_ eighth child. A Sourceror with grandparents like that…

________________________________________________________________________

"He's me best young Wizard, Donald. I can't say "no"."

Lord Downey listened to Mustrum Ridcully with sympathy tinged with amusement. It wasn't often he got to see a woeful and dolorous Arch-chancellor. It was something to treasure.

"I believe the difficulty is that at the moment, wizards aren't allowed to marry. And in fact, any association with the opposite sex is frowned upon".

He smiled, and studied the play of light and shadow in the golden liquid of his sherry glass.

"Happily for me, Mustrum, graduates of _my _academy aren't just allowed to marry, they are actively encouraged to do so!" _And to put it in the vernacular, a really good-seeing-to would make the girl a lot less prickly and more mellow. Heavens, Emmanuelle-Marie Lapoignard les Deux-Épées is a positive nymphomaniac – and she's always easier to deal with the morning after she's been pleasuring some poor chap's brains out! _

Ridcully sighed again. "I've never told young Stibbons, but he might have guessed by now .He's the very best I've got. I rely on that lad to keep things ticking over! I don't want to lose him to a woman, Donald, damn lovely girl though she is."

In some respects, Downey was many times more worldly-wise than Ridcully.

"Do you need to lose him at all, Mustrum? I mean, this Lore that says wizards can't marry – surely that only becomes an issue the moment the girl gets him to the altar? And up until then he's permitted all the extra-maritals or instead-of-maritals that he can take?"

"Hah! Can't see young Johanna settling for being an _instead of marital _for too long! She's got class, that one!"

"Well, look at it this way, Mustrum. What's important about this lore of yours? Why are Wizards not allowed to marry? It's not the _act_ of marriage that's the problem, is it? It's the _number of children_ that's the issue. All this Sourcerer business, the eighth child of the eighth child, and so on. Surely you, as Arch-chancellor, can abolish one piece of lore that is no longer applicable to need, and replace it with a new one: _Yes, you may marry, but have more than seven children and we come gunning for you. _After all, I had to authorise a major re-write of the _**Concordat**_ when we started taking girl pupils. The old version just wasn't relevant to mixed-sex education. Took a lot of fighting for with people who were married to the old wording, who didn't see why I should be changing what had stood the Guild in good stead for seven hundred years, but I got there in the end!"

Ridcully nodded.

"There may be something in what you say" he said, reluctantly.

Downey smiled again.

"But of course, Johanna is from a people who believe in big families. A remarkable people, the Boors. They preserve something of the cultural ethos prevelant in Sto Kerrig five or six hundred years ago. What's the phrase that sums up all that's expected of a Boor wife? Oh yes, _dem Kinders, die Kerk en Kombuis_. Especially _kinders._ When Johanna first came to Ankh-Morpork and I interviewed her for a mature student position at the Guild, it was patently obvious what she was running away from and what parts of the cultural expectation for young Boor girls she was in rebellion against. It wasn't _too_ difficult to get her to see the advantages of remaining in this City with a student's visa. "

"Donald, assume I've neglected me studies in Kerrigian and Vondalaans lately?"

"Children, church and kitchen. Especially the first. It's not unknown for Boor women to have ten or more!"

"Donald, you're not helpin'" Ridcully said, severely.

_________________________________________-----

At the end of the day, Johanna was in the Animal Management Unit, dealing with students, handling routine admin, and stopping her thoughts from straying to dark-haired bespectacled young Wizards.

_If he has his hair styled slightly differently and perhaps a different shape of frame on his glasses, and pays a little more attention to his clothes, he'd be quite good-looking. I'll talk to Conina about the hair. _

"Cherie!" Emmanuelle said, stepping out from around the Aquarium and delivering a Quirmian hug and a kiss on each cheek.

"Oh, hi, Emmie. Whet beings you here?" She paused, and corrected herself. "Both of you here."

"So _relaxing_ to be around fish, I find!" announced Joan Sanderson-Reeves (Domestic Sciences), in her brisk, no-nonsense, carrying voice. "I'd quite like a tank in my office!"

"Well, yes, Joan. But those are Vampire Goldfish from Bhengbhengduc. Swim in a river with those fellows end you'd be empty of all blood inside a minute! And thet's a Deep Sea Bloatfish. You don't need _me_ to tell you whet it does. And those are pirhanas!"

"Very pretty, though." Joan said. "Now we haven't got long. Alice can't keep him in small-talk at the door for ever. Davinia!"

Mrs Bellamy, the Botany teacher, appeared from behind Johanna holding a clean, new, starched, white labcoat. With Johanna feebly protesting, her arms were forced into it and it was fastened in front.

"Did I mention your young wizard's here? " Joan said, cheerfully.

"MY young wizard?"

Emmanuelle stepped forward and took Johanna's arms. She expertly sprayed perfume on each wrist, then a little behind each ear.

"Oh, REALLY, Emmie!" she protested. Emmanuelle held up a cautionary finger.

"Cherie, who here knows more about men?"

"well, you, of course…"

"_Et bien_. You admit I know what works with men? _Bon._ Trust me. To your wizard, the so-clean new white coat will be like the finest lace lingerie." A clipboard was thrust into her hands.

Joan and Emmanuelle surveyed their handwork, and shook hands.

"I think she'll do" said the older female Assassin, satisfied. "I say, these hairy spiders are sweet, aren't they? Could be a market here, m'dear. Shoulder-sitters that won't set your hair on fire."

Johanna watched as the tarantula ran up Joan's arm and settled on her shoulder.

"I think you're very brave to let her sit there, Joan!" Johanna commented. "Especially as she's from a betch thet still hes ell its poison glands intact. We heven't hed time to de-feng them yet."

Joan stood _very_ still as a senior student carefully removed the deadly arachnid from her shoulder.

"He's here!" Davinia Bellamy called. Uniquely for Assassins, Davinia went home at night to a happy marriage, and a husband and three kids who she loved. **(3)**

Emmie and Joan retreated to a discreet distance, and several student Assassins pretended to be _very _interested in their duties whilst trying not to giggle.

And then Ponder was walking uncertainly down the aisle, and she was walking forward to meet him. He stopped, taking in the white lab-coat and the clipboard. Emmanuelle nodded and smiled. _Clearly _smitten.

"Hello" he said. "I'm not intruding, am I?"

"No" she said, fervently. "Not et all."

"You did say to come round…"

"Let me show you round!" She took his arm, and led him down the aisle. From somewhere behind them, a voice she couldn't identify started humming _A Wizard's Staff Has A Knob on The End…_

Without turning round, Johanna said

"A week's detention to the person humming thet song!"

"That's a bit _harsh,_ Miss Smith-Rhodes. Especially as it was me!" said Davinia.

"A fortnight's detention, then!"

And so a romance started. And as Downey observed, it could lead somewhere or it could lead nowhere. But for now, Ponder Stibbons is viewing Johanna's Animal Management Unit, and her friends are discreetly moving out and leaving them to it…

**

* * *

**

And I really think that's it.. maybe a tweak or two, but I really do thing it's done now. Let me know if you think I'm wrong!

* * *

**(1) **_**Something **_like this must have happened. In the very earliest Discworld novels, such as _**Equal Rites**_**, **conjurors have been described as jolly men with leather patches on their elbows and a hearty laugh, who congregate together at parties, associate with thin sad-eyed women (generally called Doris who affect spangly tights and leotards), and generally infuriate wizards by not realising how lowly they are. Yet by the time of _**The Truth**_, A group of sad, listless, and defeated men whose guild premises are directly underneath William de Worde's office. By inference one step away from Fools and every bit as cheerful, the trainee Conjurors are led through their lessons by strict rote. It is clear that as with the Fools and Joculators, there is no perceived need to alter what may, at some point in the preceding several hundred years, have once been a winning formula.

Quite clearly, in between _**Equal Rites**_ and _**The Truth**_**,** something has happened to change the image of conjuring. Quite possibly the establishment of a Guild and the formalising of training into something sounding as unutterably miserable as anything the Fools' Guild has come up with? Indeed, given the generally negative levels of jollity and joviality floating about, together with the undeniable fact that stage magic is a somewhat stilted, forced and unspontaneous form of entertainment, unchanged in its essentials for many years, which has now become something of a cliché - could it be that Conjury has been subsumed as a sub-speciality of Clowning and Fooling, and ultimately comes under the chilly wing of Dr. Whiteface?

**(2**) I'm claiming this, at 19:04pm on Saturday 4th October 2009, as being the_**very first Discworld Fanfic **_to incorporate material from Terry Pratchett's newly-released Discworld novel _**Unseen Academicals. **_In which we learn of various animal colonies within the university walls. Thank you!

**(3) **A future fanfic will explain more about Davinia the botany mistress and how she came to the Assassins'Guild as a mature student. It's sketched out and I like the feel of the story!


	13. The Wind of Change?

_**The Nature Trail – afterthoughts**_

**_I was asked to leave this story "open" and add a few more bits. Why not... A few words which seem to fit here! _**

Lord Vetinari looked up from the file on his desk. It was a particularly absorbing speculative report, jointly commissioned by the Guild of Artificers and the Postmaster General, concerning how to overcome certain technical and geographical difficulties inherent in extending the Clacks network into the continent of Klatch, and ultimately bringing the faraway Union of Rimwards Howondaland closer to the main continent.

Proposition One involved going the long way round by land, around the rim of the Circle Sea, taking in smaller nations such as Ephebe, Betrek, Istanzia, Omnia, Ushistan, Tsort, and Djelibeybi , and then into Klatch proper and on through the heart of the continent. Vetinari noted: _I fully accept that while the longest land route, this entails working in no new and untested technologies and once established, would vastly speed communications with these States._

_Politically, however, I note that very many sovereign states are involved here. Getting them all to agree would be like herding cats, and it would only take one of them, such as the Theocracy of Ushistan, to refuse, thus throwing the project into chaos and disorder. And Ushistan, I believe, considers the Clacks "blasphemous" and an affront to its Gods. _

Proposition Two was more technologically advanced. It proposed a relay of permanently anchored "clacks ships" in line of sight across the Circle Sea, for which old hulls could be utilised and permanently moored. In place of masts, they would carry clacks towers, thus taking up the relay from coast-to-coast, making landfall again in Hersheba, and then Rimwards across the continent. A subsidiary of the Grand Trunk could be enabled with investment money from the URH, as that country has expressed intent in establishing an internal Clacks network of its own.

_While advantageous in that it crosses fewer international borders and has the assured political and financial support of the URH, this is also fearsomely expensive. A storm in the Circle Sea could cut communications instantly. Not to mention the risk of collisions with more mobile shipping. As part of recent discussions with Ambassador van der Graaf, I have consented in principle to enabling a joint Ankh-Morporkian/URH company, provisionally called the Grand Trunk of Howondaland, which will export our technology to a friend and ally, and at the very least establish internal clacks lines in the URH. The difficulty is linking that rather old-time socially conservative nation with the rest of the world, and ideally into the current century. Crossing the continent would involve establishing clacks towers first in baking deserts, overcoming technological problems posed by sand fouling the mechanisms, and perhaps more pressingly, of raiding D'Reg tribesmen. _

_When the problems posed by the desert are resolved, the Clacks line then moves into the Central Howondalandian Plain, which by international treaty is the reserved tribal land of the Red Indian races. Their joint diplomatic mission to Ankh-Morpork will not be happy about the idea of white men making an incursion on their lands. I understand that in the past, they have made this point with great force, often involving the application of tomahawks for emphasis. They are a people who believe in burying the hatchet after an argument, often because it is lodged so firmly in a perceived enemy's skull that it cannot be removed and has to go to the grave with him. I have reservations about this stage of the plan. And frankly, so do the Indians. _

_If the Central Plain were to be conquered by the Clacks, the next obstacle is the woodland and jungle. The deep jungle rots wood, rusts metal, corrodes anything manmade. The tallest trees are over a hundred feet. And then there are the human and animal inhabitants. How do you propose to establish clacks towers here? _

_After _**that**_, you are in the URH and among friends. Well done, in that event. _

Proposition Three involved capitalising on Klatchian interest in the Clacks and routing the line through the Klatchian Empire. It was noted that a pre-existing network of desert forts garrisoned by the Klatchian Foreign Legion would allow safe bases for the Clacks towers to be established, as well as a means of deterring the D'Regs from attacking the line.

_Definitely _**not**_, at least for the moment. It has practical advantage, yes, but allows the Klatchians control and access to all trunk line calls to all parts of the continent, which they can freely intercept or sever at a whim. That nation is just _**too**_ strategically placed. Besides, the Clacks depends on prompt forwarding of complex messages which requires enhanced memory and recall skills on the part of its operatives. I am concerned as to how long these would survive prolonged contact with the KFL, sterling military organisation though I am sure it is. _

Proposition Four suggested getting round the problems posed by a cross-continent Clacks line by routing it around the coast. Again it would be long, but secure, and it would always be close to the sea if maritime support and intervention was called for. This would make tower crew support and replenishment easier, as a small fleet of support ships could be incorporated into the plan and costings. It would also miss the worst and deepest jungle, and non-crucial dependent spur lines could in the fullness be budded off the main Continental Trunk, access to which _we_ would control. Klatch would then get its clacks line, but a strictly local exchange ultimately controlled by the Company.

_I have significant cost worries, but this seems to be the best of the four propositions. Please develop this idea and circulate your paper to the Ambassadors of Hersheba and the URH for their input. But take care to omit, for the moment, my comments! No great rush. V. _

There was a knock on the door.

"Come, Drumknott!"

Vetinari's personal secretary entered, bringing a steaming mug of tea, which he placed on the desk. Vetinari permitted the informality of the "_To The world's Greatest Boss!" _logo: it was another of those little incongruities he very carefully cultivated, which, once spotted, tended to re-route the train of thought of any visitor to the office.

"Thank you, Drumknott. The delegation from Unseen University?"

"Is ready to see you, sir."

"Allow me five minutes for reflection, and then show them in. "

He handed Drumknott the folder on _The Grand Trunk of Howondaland._

"Please action my recommendations, Drumknott."

"Right away, sir."

Vetinari spent a few minutes sipping his tea, and pondering other pressing issues. Then he called in the Wizards.

"Ah, Mr Chapman. Mr Wainwright. And Professor Stibbons. Mage Intelligence Five, I believe".

"No, sir" Ponder corrected him. "Mage Intelligence Five was set up to intercept domestic incidences of illegal use of magic. The wizards here are from Mage Intelligence Six. Who seek to monitor magic-use by foreign nationals, and particularly by their diplomatic establishments, in this city."

"And who are here to brief me. Carry on, gentlemen."

The wizard Pincher Chapman, who against all the odds for his profession was spare and lean and fleshless, leant forward and smiled a thin self-satisfied smile. Vetinari distrusted thin wizards: anyone diverted away from the dining regime at the University by more interesting things than food and drink was almost certainly up to something. _At least in this instance, I'm reasonably sure it has been harnessed in the service of the City. _

"It's been quite a busy few days, my Lord." the spare Wizard remarked, with a disconcertingly manic light in his eyes.

"The known psychic channels have been very active, but I pride myself in that our Department has managed to successfully intercept virtually every message sent out from this City. While there is of course no place for any sort of complacency, our monitoring systems are still capable of passively monitoring all messages despatched by magic-users employed by the Zlobenian, Borogravian, Redurantian, and at least six other Embassies. In these cases, messages are sent out _en clair_, and the diplomats involved appear not to have recognised that our skilled farseers and psychic mediums can intercept their traffic at will. File One, my lord, contains the latest intercepts."

Vetinari accepted it with a nod.

"Proceed".

"Nations such as Klatch routinely encode and protect their transmissions at a higher level, and there have been, er, incidents with their counter-intelligence staff, which my colleague Mr Wheelwright will in time brief you on. Similarly, the Kwa'Zululand Embassy is aware we are monitoring them on the known psychic planes, and they have recently imported a Royal House Witchfinder of the first degree to oversee their psychic security services."

He looked away, eyes suddenly downcast. His colleague Mr Wheelwright, a Wizard of normal girth and gait, took up the story.

"We sent out a remote viewer to try to get inside their Embassy, on the Astral Plane, and report back on any changes. So far he has not returned. We know he is not dead, as his body is alive and being tended to. This indicates they are now employing Magic Users of greater ability than previously, who are capable of trapping and imprisoning wandering Astral Bodies. Of course, we can do this ourselves, as we currently hold the spiritual essence of a Zulu Leopard Society officer, who our defences found prowling in the vicinity of the High Energy Magic Building, and detained after a short struggle. My Lord, perhaps you could negotiate a hostage exchange at some point? The soul can only exist for so long when temporarily separated from the body."** (1)**

"Noted." said Vetinari. "I trust you know how to check for whatever might be sent back? And you debrief a returned agent afterwards, in case they have been _turned _and have come to see the other side's point of view?"

"After our experience the last time, when we discovered it was not, in fact, the unfortunate Wizard William Walter Waddell- Swift, but in fact the Überwaldean agent Oberst Erich von Hanfkopf, who returned to his body, we are sure to check."

"It was a potentially good operation, though." Pincher mused. "It did rather arouse our suspicions when our man identified himself as _der Vizard, Villiam Valter Vaddell-Svift. _If it wasn't for that…"

"These are the transcripts in File Two, my lord. Amassed through the usual means, of remote viewing, automatic writing, ghostwalking, and astral projection. I will also draw your attention to the clever work put in by Doctor Hix, of the Department of Postmortem Communications, following the unfortunate recent death of a Quirmian diplomat who our services needed to speak to. Now most of the transcripts in this file are encoded in ways we have been unable to decipher, or are only partial, or where the other side's counter-intelligence mages were good enough to realise they were being eavesdropped and either halted the transmission, or moved it to a more secure line."

"Or employed more active counter-measures of their own" added Wainwright. "Which is where I come in. Monitoring and defending locations around the City which are sealed to foreign intelligence services, and ensuring they cannot be intruded upon psychically. Providing defence to our own operators who are out on intelligence missions. It's a great game, My Lord! And by the way, Sir, I would not completely trust Hix. As resident Evil Wizard, his job description practically obliges him to be a double agent for every foreign secret service in town!""

Vetinari nodded, reflecting that on the Astral Plane, a wizard could take whatever shape and form he liked, and that the thirty-stone Wainwright's preferred shape was that of a lean, muscular, fourteen-stone Secret Service agent who affected his cocktails to be shaken not stirred, and who could make dry Assassin-like witticisms whilst inhuming or otherwise incommoding his foes. He sighed. He had his Dark Clerks and the Assassins' Guild, for those little activities, on the fringes of diplomacy, that happened in the normal waking world. But as more and more Embassies were using magic to bypass the usual diplomatic channels, he needed these wizards.

"Tell me, are there any Embassies we _cannot_ penetrate or interdict with magic?" Vetinari inquired. The two Wizards looked suddenly shifty.

"Well… the Fourecksian High Commission is difficult, my Lord. The University at Bugarup has provided a couple of first-class home-trained wizards on the staff. The High Commission also employs several aboriginal bonethrowers, the native magic users of the Continent. The result of their marriage of high-mage and native has effectively ensured the Embassy is shut down to intrusion. And the voodoo-users at the Genuan Embassy are a hard fight, although one where we have every expectation of eventual success."

"Which means you're losing." Vetinari observed. The wizards winced.

"The Low King of the Dwarfs has a diplomatic mission here. Dwarfs are not magic-users, so in theory their Embassy should be wide-open. Most of it is, but certain sensitive rooms on the inside are lined with octiron panels, which negates our attempts to penetrate. Experiments are proceeding. Embassies such as Lancre are impossible as they use no magic. Their informal set-up ensures the Diplomatic Bag proceeds home with, well, whichever human or troll or dwarf is passing that way and can be trusted to drop it off at the castle for King Verence. Sometimes, it goes airmail with a witch, which in theory offers us an avenue of approach, but Lancre witches are an even harder fight than Genuan voodoo users. Not a battle we'd pick, to be honest, unless forced."

Vetinari nodded, understanding.

"The city thanks you for your untiring labours, gentlemen." He said, by way of dismissal. "Professor Stibbons, please remain."

The two older Wizards left. As the door closed behind them, Ponder made to offer a file of his own. Vetinari accepted it with thanks.

"I believe you've been introducing Miss Smith-Rhodes to the Roundworld Project, professor?"

"Yes, sir. HEX consulted with me, and he considered she could usefully be shown the Serengeti Plain and perhaps the Kruger National Park."

Ponder had wondered at the time if HEX had been got at by others who wanted to join in the general atmosphere of match-making, or whether the computing machine had, off its own bat, decided (on Ponder's behalf) to gift-wrap a continent for her.

But it had worked: with squeals of delight, she had immersed herself in the wildlife of Africa, loudly exclaiming how much like _home_ it all was, Ponder!

"We _did_ need a wildlife and zoological specialist, sir. And I did very carefully take her back several hundred years before the creation of any sovereign state called South Africa. I thought this would be prudent."

"So she has several surprises to come, then." He turned the file over in his hands. It was labelled

**Roundworld Project.**

**Access strictly restricted. **

**Category: Historical/Political.**

**Subject: History and Politics of the Union of South Africa, 1600-2100.**

"She inquired into the possibility of taking a class of Assassins' Guild pupils into Roundworld on one of her Nature Trails, sir. The advantages for her are that this would take away the necessity of a ten-week voyage to and from Howondaland and replace it with a ten-minute walk across the City. It also appealed to her that an over-confident pupil could be torn to bits by the wildlife in virtual reality, and still be alive and unhurt afterwards, to reflect on their mistakes. I have no objections, and I'm sure the Arch-chancellor will agee, as he's well disposed towards her."

"I _do_ appreciate all the inventive ways the teaching staff at my old school have originated to identify and punish over-confidence. In my day, the options were so much more limited. Is she aware that a nation state remarkably like her own exists on Roundworld?" Vetinari inquired.

"She knows a little, sir. But at the moment, she's captivated by the scenery and the wildlife."

Vetinari smiled.

"I would be pleased if you were to exercise great caution in introducing her to too much of the history of South Africa, Professor." he said, and steepled his fingers.

"At the moment, I believe, given the opportunity for change presented by this city, that she is seriously questioning some of the beliefs she grew up with. For her, the world is becoming too small for old prejudices to be comfortably sustained. This is no bad thing. She is an intelligent and sensible young woman. But she could very easily be shocked and traumatised to be shown too much and too soon, and this can often have the undesired effect of reinforcing old thought-patterns. Showing her, for instance, the dismantling of apartheid and the voluntary relinquishment of white minority rule could well force her back into the comforting shell of her old beliefs."

"I think I see what you mean, sir." Ponder said, thoughtfully. "That she needs to be carefully guided to the point where she sees for herself that things need to change, and the current way of doing things is unsustainable."

"I agree" said Vetinari. "It is a pleasing thought, is it not, that the last white president saw things could not carry on as they had done in the past, and he brought about a bloodless handover of power to a black leader who proved remarkably free from prejudice and a desire for revenge, despite his having spent most of his life in prison? Maybe in thirty or forty years, the last member of the Smith-Rhodes family to achieve high office in her country will do the same. Stranger things have happened, after all. Show her the massacres at Sharpeville and Soweto, by all means, that were carried out in the name of a government not unlike the one she serves. The seeds of doubt have been planted, and they now require the appropriate fertiliser. _Il faut coutiver notre jardin_, as a wise man said."**(2)**

Realising he'd been given good advice and was now dismissed, Ponder made to rise. The Patrician smiled "And I wish you both very well indeed, of course!" he said.

Ponder Stibbons left.

Vetinari read the South Africa document thoughtfully for a few minutes. Then he skipped to a few pages before the end.

His mind considered a request to the Embassy in Pratoria. _For my own interest, prepare reports on key prisoners currently held by the Staadt in its high-security prisons. Those who have been jailed for acts against, or opposition to, the current dispensation of the Staadt towards its non-white skinned citizens. _

It would be interesting, very interesting, to predict who the Discworld's Nelson Mandela was going to be…

* * *

**(1) Really true: **alarmed by reports that the Soviet Union was researching into occult and supernatural methods of espionage, the United States commited millions of dollars to psychic research of its own, into for instance the idea that top –secret bases and sensitive foreign Embassies could be infiltrated by psychics walking in, invisibly, on the Astral Plane, to look around and eavesdrop with impunity. (See book, by Jon Ronson**, **_**The Men Who Stared at Goats**_**) **

_**Remote viewing**_ was the name given to the idea that a psychic could eavesdrop on Moscow without leaving the Pentagon.

In a really magic place like the Discworld, this psychic espionage and counter-espionage would undoubtedly happen _for real._

**(2) **French philosopher Voltaire, in _**Candide. **_Roughly "Everyone should look to their own garden"


End file.
